


21 Times

by Ralph_E_Silvering



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Choose Your Own Ending, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Vader, Unresolved Sexual Tension, just for fun, not sure if this will be all light and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 47,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralph_E_Silvering/pseuds/Ralph_E_Silvering
Summary: Twenty-one times Obi-Wan and Anakin almost kiss, and four times they do.





	1. Anakin is Nineteen and Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own anything from Star Wars. Obi-Wan/Anakin have pulled me in again. I’m going for something more lighthearted this time

“Master?”

“No.”

“Master?!” Anakin whined.

“No.” Obi-Wan was unmoved. “And I am severely disappointed in you Padawan.”

 _So, what else was new_. He giggled a bit. Everything was all blurry and fuzzy, and he felt so warm and sleepy. He stumbled and would have fallen if Obi-Wan hadn’t reached out a hand and grabbed him. Anakin stumbled back and fell into Obi-Wan, feeling his Master’s arms go around him automatically in order to steady him.

Anakin buried his face in the robes of his Master’s shoulder and twisted his hands between their bodies to tangle them in the rough, clean fabric of his Master’s tabard. Obi-Wan smelled so good and he was so warm, and his arms were so strong. Anakin relaxed against him; he had always felt safe here.

After awhile he mumbled something into the man’s robes, but even he didn’t know what he was saying. He turned his head to the side again, hazily surprised Obi-Wan was allowing so much physical contact between them. “Please, Master?” he murmured hopefully, his lips brushing the skin on Obi-Wan’s neck as his nose was prickled by the older man’s beard. He wrinkled his nose and giggled at the sensation before deliberately rubbing his face against Obi-Wan’s facial hair; soft but prickly. Just like his Master. He did it again.

Obi-Wan sighed in a long-suffering manner and gently pushed Anakin away from him. “No, Padawan mine,” he said firmly.

Anakin pouted. “But Master, I want more. It’s my life-day and it feels so good!”

“You won’t say that in the morning,” Obi-Wan muttered, tugging on Anakin’s arm to get him moving again.

Anakin spent the rest of the walk with his fingers entwined with Obi-Wan’s, attempting to remain upright as he meandered back to the Jedi Temple, and accidentally-on-purpose leaning on his Master in an effort to remain vertical.

By the time they reached the main doors of the Temple, Anakin was leaning entirely upon his Master, weaving on his feet, his head resting back on the man’s shoulder as he watched the sky, and singing a rather bawdy song about a meiloorun and a girl from Lothal.

He draped himself over Obi-Wan’s back as his Master punched in the code for their rooms, nuzzling into the back of his neck and the soft hair there and pressing himself fully along the curve of his Master’s spine, sighing happily as he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan and ignoring his surprised yelp.

He nestled his body even further into Obi-Wan’s warmth, fitting their hips together, and closed his eyes.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice was rather hoarse.

“Mmm,” he was almost asleep and surrounded by Obi-Wan.

“Anakin!”

He tried to pry his eyes open, struggling to answer his Master.

Obi-Wan sighed. “You would be a clingy drunk,” he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose and attempted to extricate himself from Anakin’s grip. His words made no sense to the young man.

“You are 19-years-old now, Anakin,” he continued to lecture, as he maneuvered his Padawan into his room, stripped off his outer tabard and pushed him into bed. “The Council is talking about letting you undergo your Jedi Trials this year.” He tucked Anakin under the covers. “You should know better than this!”

Obi-Wan sounded frustrated and disappointed. Anakin’s heart clenched, and he pulled open his eyelids with superhuman effort. Obi-Wan’s face was very close to his, a frown between his eyes as he studied his Padawan severely.

His eyes were brilliant blue-grey-green.

Anakin raised a hand and, after several attempts, placed it on Obi-Wan’s cheek. “Don be mad, Maser,” he slurred. He forgot what he was going to say after this though, distracted by the feel of Obi-Wan’s smooth skin under his fingertips. The way his full lips were slightly parted and so close to Anakin’s own.

“You’re very beautiful, Master,” he whispered, his voice suddenly clear, trying to raise himself up but feeling unconsciousness pulling at him. He made a forlorn sound, struggling against it.

Darkness won before he could reach Obi-Wan.

In the morning he pretended he’d forgotten everything from the previous night and he accepted, without complaining too much anyway, his punishment of teaching drills to younglings and helping with the food preparation.

Anakin was furthermore banned from leaving the Temple, unsupervised, until he attained Knighthood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it so far? Hopefully they’re cute? I think they’re cute. My brother agrees with me that Anakin would definitely be a clingy drunk.


	2. Sick Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own anything from Star Wars. Thank you for all for your lovely comments and reviews! In this chapter the Clone Wars has begun, Ahsoka has just been assigned as Anakin’s Padawan, and Anakin has been married to Padmé for several months. I’m thinking these short scenes will be in roughly chronological order. As of right now.

Obi-Wan was sick.

He was definitely sick, no matter what he said about it. Anakin could hear him coughing from here.

A thick, rasping, hacking cough sounded from the other side of the transparisteel doors which sectioned off the main bridge from the rest of the _Resolute_. Anakin exchanged a look with Ahsoka and shook his head.

The doors hissed open and they heard Obi-Wan say, “I beg your pardon ladies and gentlemen. It’s just a cold.” Anakin saw Ahsoka roll her eyes from the corner of his gaze. The men and women around the communications console looked unconvinced as well. Cody was hovering over his commanding officer, Admiral Yularen looked to be at the end of his patience and the holographic form of Jedi Master and General Luminara Unduli frowned as she surveyed Obi-Wan. “Are you quite sure you’re alright, Master Kenobi?” she asked in her refined voice. “You don’t look well.”

It was true; Obi-Wan looked terrible.

His skin was pasty pale with a feverish glow, his eyes were heavy-lidded and unfocused, as though he could barely keep them open, and his usually immaculate hair was limp and hung straggling across his face.

“You look like shit, Kenobi,” was the brusque assessment of Master Windu, also appearing via hologram.

Anakin snorted, stopping on Obi-Wan’s right side and crossing his arms. He was standing close enough to his Master that their sides and hips brushed. “As I’ve been telling him for days, but General Kenobi doesn’t get sick,” he pronounced, sarcastically.

Ahsoka came and stood at Obi-Wan’s other side. Anakin saw her glance down to where Obi-Wan gripped the console’s edge in white-knuckled hands and he felt her concern flare in the Force.

It was true, Obi-Wan was never sick. Anakin could only remember one other time, when he’d been ten and afraid Obi-Wan wouldn’t wake up he slept so soundly. But he was definitely sick today.

He shifted closer to his Master, feeling the exact moment when Obi-Wan released his tense, rigid hold over himself and leaned onto Anakin slightly, exhaling with a quiet sigh of relief. Anakin attempted to be stealthy as he dropped his arms and wound one around Obi-Wan’s waist to hold him upright and against Anakin. His Master’s head drooped with exhaustion.

“He hasn’t been sleeping anywhere near enough,” Cody opined reprovingly.

“Yes, thank you, Cody,” Obi-Wan murmured, his eyes fluttering as he sagged a bit further against Anakin. That was it.

Anakin straightened. “Masters, we have several more days until we get to Ansion and nothing we are discussing now can’t wait. Therefore, I suggest we re-convene this meeting another time because I’m taking Obi-Wan to bed” – Ahsoka hastily swallowed back laughter, tried to clear her throat meaningfully and ended up in an extended coughing fit – “I’m making sure Obi-Wan goes to bed. To rest,” Anakin continued, without missing a beat.

Windu looked extremely unimpressed. And was Luminara hiding a smile behind that raised hand?

Anakin scowled. “Good day, Masters.” He terminated the connection.

Ahsoka was wiping tears from her eyes and he scowled at her too.

“You take care of General Kenobi, sir,” Rex said, his voice entirely too neutral. “We’ll take care of everything here.” Ahsoka gave him a thumbs up. “Really, I’m not sick at all,” Obi-Wan protested. Anakin hated them all.

He managed to get Obi-Wan to his quarters where his Master refused all help to change into sleepwear, instead taking so long in the ‘fresher that Anakin thought he might have fallen asleep in there, except for the hacking coughs which occurred with more and more frequency. He wandered out after a while and got into bed, refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. He coughed into his hand and grimaced. “There’s no need to waste your time coddling your old Master, Anakin. I’ll be just fine after a little rest.”

Anakin shook his head and plumped up Obi-Wan’s pillows. “You’re not old Master, and I want to help you. And take care of you.”

Obi-Wan, his face flushed and his eyes already trying to close, rolled them. “Why am I not surprised,” he murmured as he quickly fell into a light dose.

Anakin hovered over him for a while, listening to his unsteady breaths and the rattling in his chest. At last he reached out and swept Obi-Wan’s sweaty hair from his forehead, feeling his temperature. Hot and clammy.

Obi-Wan sighed a bit in his sleep, making a small sound as he tried to push his fevered skin against Anakin’s cool palm. Anakin stroked his cheek gently, frowning as Obi-Wan’s relaxed features scrunched in pain and he began coughing again. He looked around the room for another pillow but didn’t see one. After a moments indecision, he pulled away from Obi-Wan – trying to ignore his Master’s resulting small sound of distress – went and filled a glass of water for later, and pulled off his lightsaber and outer armor, before sliding into the bed and positioning Obi-Wan on top of him.

Anakin was mostly seated upright against the wall, with Obi-Wan resting between his legs, lying on his side with his head raised up and pillowed on Anakin’s chest. Anakin wrapped his arms around his Master, pressing one cheek onto the man’s damp hair.

He must have drifted off at some point because he woke to Obi-Wan’s calloused fingers hesitantly stroking his skin and his Master’s fevered eyes staring up at him. Obi-Wan was burning hot in Anakin’s arms, his lips dry and cracked and he smelled sour, but his eyes were brilliantly bright, and he had never looked more beautiful to Anakin.

Those fingers stroked higher until they tangled in Anakin’s curls and Obi-Wan nestled further into Anakin’s arms. His Force presence, usually under such tight control, roiled wildly and tangled sinuously with Anakin’s own.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice as turbulent as his eyes. “You’re still here.” He sounded like he couldn’t believe it. He tugged on Anakin’s hair, his eyes dropping from Anakin’s own as his lips parted.

Anakin shivered and leaned forward, resting their foreheads together. Obi-Wan’s eyes fell closed as he hummed low in his throat.

“Master – ” Anakin was shocked at the rough quality of his own voice.

Obi-Wan hmm’d again, his lips barely a hairsbreadth from Anakin’s. His head slid down until his face was buried in the hollow of Anakin’s throat and he gently drifted off into a healing sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next scene will have both Obi-Wan and Anakin in full possession of their faculties, I promise.


	3. Podracing on Malastare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own anything from Star Wars.

The crowd roared its approval at the underhanded maneuver employed by the lead podracer. Obi-Wan watched as Anakin narrowly avoided a fiery death once more and tried not to grind his teeth into dust. He had no idea how Qui-Gon, Padmé and Anakin’s mother, Shmi, had endured watching Anakin do this at the age of nine. Although Anakin was a grown man now – a Jedi Knight to boot – and the weather on Malastare was nowhere near as hot as on Tatooine, Obi-Wan had sweated clean through his tunic.

He thanked the stars Ahsoka was currently confined to the Temple and that he had sic’d Waxer and Boil on her to make sure the reckless young Padawan didn’t attempt to follow her masters off planet. The last thing he needed right now was for her to think these flying death contraptions looked like fun and try to emulate her Master by getting in one.

Visible on the monitors all around the viewing area and stadium, Anakin careened around another high-speed turn, and then almost lost control as he was shoved into the service lane by another ruthless opponent. He was laughing as he cleverly avoided the other racer – causing her to bowl out of the course – and slipped into the lead.

Obi-Wan tried to take deep breaths but kept forgetting to inhale after every exhale. _How had he ever let Anakin talk him into this?_

“It’ll be fun, Obi-Wan. We need a break, Obi-Wan. We’ll get valuable intel, Obi-Wan,” he muttered under his breath, lips compressed into a thin line as Anakin hurtled over the finish line, skating through at first place. He vaulted over the side of his smoking vehicle and into the enthusiastic crowd already pouring out into the field to congratulate him.

Obi-Wan could already feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. He stood up from his seat and began making his way down to the field as well. He watched as Anakin let out a loud ‘Whoop!’ and punched his fist into the air. He shook his head, but his lips twitched into a reluctant smile and he felt his heartrate steady a bit.

Anakin would always be Anakin.

He watched his Padawan lean around a gaggle of girls to speak with the wealthy, slight-shady, Ithorian who had sponsored Anakin in the race today. The Ithorian placed a hand on Anakin’s arm, apparently attempting to persuade him of something, while Anakin smiled and nodded and at last assented.

Obi-Wan knew his friend had accepted an invitation to an after party, were he would attempt to discover evidence of an underground extortion ring. This invite had been the entire purpose for Anakin’s entry into the podrace – at least in the minds of Obi-Wan and the Jedi Council – and the Jedi Master felt relief that the younger man hadn’t forgotten their mission in all the excitement of his favorite pastime.

All the times Obi-Wan had had to drag him back to the Temple after catching him illegally drag-racing in Coruscant’s lower levels….

He chided himself sternly for thinking Anakin would forget their mission as he descended the last of the stadium’s stairs and saw his former Padawan looking around the crowd, undoubtedly for him. Anakin Skywalker had never let him down.

Obi-Wan raised a hand to wave and gently prodded Anakin through their bond. That head of unruly curls turned towards him. “Obi-Wan!,” he shouted, grinning like mad and covered in dirt and dust from engine exhausts. He began to shove through the crowd towards his master. “Did you see that! Wasn’t it brilliant?!”

His eyes, blue like a desert sky, were wild with joy and triumph and exhilaration. He laughed as he grabbed Obi-Wan and swung them both around and around until they were breathless. This is how Obi-Wan saw him – volatile and almost unpredictable – always living on the edge, free with his passion. A storm in human form.

Obi-Wan laughed quietly, sharing Anakin’s joy, and watched as the young man stilled under the soft hand Obi-Wan placed on his cheek. “Congratulations, dear one,” Obi-Wan said softly.

His former padawan’s eyes widened and he gripped Obi-Wan’s forearms more tightly still. They stood, unmoving, amid a ring of exuberant revelers. Staring at one another. Obi-Wan could feel his heart pounding and he wasn’t quite sure he remembered how to breathe anymore. Anakin licked his lips and his gaze flickered down to Obi-Wan’s mouth –

And then he was stepping back, lips smiling falsely under wide eyes as he let Obi-Wan go. His too-wide smile turned apologetic as he was pulled back into the celebrating crowd and Obi-Wan was left alone.

The Jedi Master dropped his hands to his sides. He took a deep breath. And then another.

And then he strode through the crowd. He would have the ship ready for takeoff and Anakin would join him when he was ready.

Until then he had to…he had to…meditate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Obi-Wan’s POV. He’s got his own blind spots – not as many as Anakin, who has a million issues – but at the top of that list is Anakin Skywalker. Lol. Also, I feel like Obi-Wan is really good at denial.


	4. Geonosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two scenes in one week! This takes place during the Second Battle of Geonosis, after Obi-Wan was about to make his last stand with the 212th and Anakin, Ahsoka and Ki-Adi-Mundi get there just in time.

The quiet noises after a battle always seemed disproportionately loud to Anakin. Standing – more like hovering – over his Master as Kix ran a medical diagnostic scan, Anakin crossed his arms and tried to block out the creaking and clanking of the AT-TEs, the subdued voices and stifled, pain-filled moans of injured clones, and Ahsoka’s nervous chatter.

“I am perfectly capable of making it back to the _Negotiator_ ,” Obi-Wan said in a voice that would have been more effective if it didn’t break off every other word, so he could take a ragged breath of air.

“ _Broken ribs, perhaps punctured lung_ ,” Kix had informed his commanding officer. “ _Sprained, perhaps broken leg._ ”

Now he was checking for internal damage with a deep frown and even deeper concern threading through his Force presence, which Anakin did not like at all.

Anakin had almost killed his men, his Padawan and himself getting to Obi-Wan’s position in time. And he had almost been too late anyway.

_Almost._

The word hung, hauntingly, in his mind.

“ _We’re at the breaking point, Admiral,”_ he had told Yularen, and it was true.

“Kix?” he demanded, attempting to keep his voice even.

“Not sure yet, sir,” Kix returned hurriedly, moving Obi-Wan’s left arm carefully and causing a brief spasm of pain across the Jedi Master’s face and a flare in the Force through their bond.

_Too close. It had been too kriffin’ close._

Anakin’s fists clenched, Ahsoka’s voice increased in pitch, and the dust of Geonosis stung his eyes and got stuck in his throat. The medical scanner beeped – indicating positive internal damage – and Anakin felt a dull roar in his ears, echoing his rapid pulse. The sand hissed, the comlinks squealed, the walkers pounded like thunder, the clones and Ahsoka sounded like a swarm of insects, buzzing, buzzing…

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan gasped, head falling back and eyes closing as fierce concentration suffused his features.

And the soothing, still waters of Obi-Wan’s Force presence gently brushed against Anakin’s turbulent maelstrom. _Breathe_ , Obi-Wan whispered across their still-unbroken bond.

“Ahsoka,” the Jedi Master said out loud, in a quiet, strained voice. “Please go and see if Rex or Cody need any assistance.”

The girl cast a worried glance between her two masters before scampering off, and Anakin dropped to his knees before the overturned crate on which Obi-Wan was seated. He shoved his emotions behind thick shields and looked up at his Master desperately, raising a hand to place his glove against Obi-Wan’s cheek, in order to draw the man’s head gently down towards his. Obi-Wan looked to be dazed, and half-unconscious from both the pain and Anakin’s uncontrolled burst of emotion through the Force.

His eyes blinked hazily open and he attempted to focus on Anakin’s face, lips quirked in a rueful smile.

“I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin croaked. A gentle breeze brushed Obi-Wan’s soft hair across his forehead and Anakin distractedly watched it for a moment. He half-felt Kix take several steps back from the two Jedi and lower his eyes to the ground respectfully.

Obi-Wan’s breaths were shallow and he raised a hand to clasp Anakin’s arm in an attempt to anchor himself. “Not to worry,” he murmured. “This particular mission has been trying for all of us.”

Anakin barked a disbelieving laugh. “Master, I – ” he broke off and shook his head. Then he reached out to Obi-Wan in the Force, dropping his shields and flooding Obi-Wan with his own Force presence in an attempt to heal or stabilize anything. Anything at all. Concentrating, he poured all his strength and will, his love for his Master, into it.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, and he gasped loudly, pupils dilating. _Too much. Not too much, Anakin._ And his voice in Anakin’s mind sounded almost blissed out, like Anakin imagined his Master would sound after…

Anakin hastily pulled his Force presence back, noticing Obi-Wan’s hand trembling on his arm, and his Master gave a sudden grunt, muscles releasing at the abrupt cessation of all that power flowing through his veins. He slumped forwards and would have fallen if Anakin hadn’t caught him in his arms. Anakin watched Kix raise an eyebrow before the medic shook his head and wandered off at his General’s sharp nod.

Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s prickly cheek against his own, and his Master’s warm, even breaths against the shell of his ear and rustling through his hair. He shivered. Obi-Wan was so close, his heart pounding against Anakin’s – a shared, never-ending echo.

If he just turned his head, his lips would brush smooth skin and Obi-Wan would know how much he meant to Anakin, that Anakin would never survive it if his Master –

Obi-Wan pulled shakily back. “That was…rather intense,” he said in a typical display of understatement.

Anakin wanted to laugh at that but he also, alarmingly, wanted to cry, so he hastily looked away from his Master and muttered, “Sorry.” Again.

He could feel Obi-Wan’s frown. “Anakin – ” the Jedi Master began.

And Anakin knew his Master was going to say something about Anakin needing to learn to accept death, and to let go of things he could not change, and that Anakin was a Jedi Knight, fully capable of making the right decisions without Obi-Wan around, but he couldn’t hear those words right now.

He jumped up. “Come, Master, let’s get you back to your ship and the medbay.” He drew Obi-Wan’s arm over his shoulder and helped the older man to his feet.

His Master sighed but let the matter drop, and if Anakin held Obi-Wan closer than was strictly necessary, all the way back to the troop transport, no one commented on it.

Not even Obi-Wan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up enjoying this chapter more than I thought I would. Anakin’s frantic reaction whenever Obi-Wan is in danger is always fun to explore.


	5. Dinner with Bail and Padmé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bloody politicians.

“As I’ve tried to teach Anakin,” Obi-Wan said wryly, “anything involving politicians is fraught with peril.”

Padmé’s laughter was musical as she gently pushed him from the kitchen. “Yes,” she agreed,” now let us wash up while you go relax. Make sure Anakin isn’t getting into trouble out there.”

Bail placed another drink into his hand and then the door was summarily shut in his face.

Obi-Wan sighed and automatically took a sip from the tumbler in his hand before remembering that the alcohol in it was stronger than it looked, and that he’d had more than enough during dinner. With a slight grimace, he placed the drink down on the nearest sideboard and went in search of Anakin, hoping the young man hadn’t taken anything apart, in order to see how it worked, in Bail Organa’s elegant apartment. Everything in here, although tasteful and subtle, looked far too expensive to be replaced easily.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan called, wandering down a curving hallway and wondering if it was the same one he’d used to actually get to the kitchen.

“Here!”

He sounded abstracted, never a good sign for other people’s furnishings. Obi-Wan would know.

“Whatever it is you’re holding, Anakin,” the Jedi Master said hurriedly, “put it down, now.”

He turned a corner and thankfully came to the main sitting area, where Anakin stood frozen, one of a pair of large, iridescent lighting fixtures held in his hands and a guilty expression on his face.

Obi-Wan fixed him with a stern look.

“Hello Master.” Anakin flashed him a cocky grin even as he quickly put the light down and stepped in front of it to block it from Obi-Wan’s view. Artoo, watching from the side of the room, trilled a series of beeps denoting laughter and Anakin shot the astromech droid an exasperated look.

Obi-Wan shook his head and moved over to one of the couches which were placed fully within the evening sunlight. He settled into it with a quiet sigh of relief; it had been a long couple of days. “Anakin, what have I told you about taking apart other people’s things?”

“That they’re happy I make them work better for them?” the younger man guessed, cheekily.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly in mild annoyance, and pinched the bridge of his nose, but he was much too comfortable and relaxed after such a delicious meal that he was in no mood to have this argument yet again.

“No,” he said shortly, before he let the matter drop as he leaned back further into the soft cushions and closed his eyes once more, relishing the warmth of the setting, Coruscanti sun. Bail’s apartment was quiet and airy, the dinner had been excellent, and Anakin was here and safe.

He missed Anakin’s sly smile and so let out a startled ‘oomph!’ when the tall, lanky young man threw himself onto the same couch as Obi-Wan, stretching out and placing his head in Obi-Wan’s lap.

“Anakin!” the Jedi Master scolded, even as one hand flew to grab the other man’s side in case he fell right off again.

“I have a very bad headache, Master,” Anakin all-but whined. “You know what a terrible week this has been. Even Ahsoka’s exhausted!”

Artoo made a rude noise and Obi-Wan laughed.

“That’s not an excuse,” he murmured, even as his hands began to card through Anakin’s wild curls, gently massaging his scalp. There was silence between them, the only noise their quiet breaths, the muted hum of Coruscant’s traffic, and the distant murmur of Bail and Padmé’s conversation.

Obi-Wan watched with interest and quiet pleasure as Anakin gradually went pliant under his hands, until the young man’s eyes fluttered, and his lips parted in a soft exhalation of pleasure.

Obi-Wan must have been befuddled by the wine from dinner, for he disentangled one hand from Anakin’s soft hair and brushed a fingertip down his forehead, across the bridge of his nose, before skimming, feather-light, over those parted lips.

Anakin’s eyes opened, and he smiled up at Obi-Wan. “Master,” he murmured, his bright blue eyes adoring and the soft pressure of his lips brushing over the pad of Obi-Wan’s finger.

Obi-Wan shivered – from a sudden draft in the room, surely – and took a deep breath.

“What have we here? Brave Jedi Knights actually relaxing?” Padmé’s unexpected voice was filled with mirth and caused Obi-Wan to jump, his hands flying from Anakin’s lips and hair. He cleared his throat and felt his face flame as he met Padmé’s amused gaze and Bail’s speculative one.

_Bloody politicians._

The man in his lap didn’t even move. “’Lo Padmé,” he mumbled, and Padmé Amidala’s smile grew fond. She moved over to them both.

“No, don’t get up, Obi-Wan,” she said as the Jedi Master moved to do just that. She picked up Anakin’s feet before sliding onto the couch and placing them on her lap. She took off his boots and began to rub his sock-covered feet. “You two never seem to relax,” she explained at Obi-Wan’s arched eyebrow. “And besides, I’ve known you both since I was girl, and Anakin was only a child.”

Her eyes were warm and guileless as she looked up at Obi-Wan. “It’s good to see you both like this.”  

Anakin closed his eyes again under the soft pressure of her hands, but he only released the last of his tension when Obi-Wan carefully threaded fingers back into his hair to begin rubbing soothing circles on his scalp once more.

Prince Bail Organa, Viceroy of Alderaan, wasn’t a renowned Republic Senator for nothing. He calmly took a seat across from the three of them and ignored any and all newfound revelations. “What are your thoughts, Master Kenobi, on the Chancellor’s latest use of emergency powers in the Outer Rim?”

Artoo whistled, impressed. Obi-Wan switched his raised eyebrow from Padmé to Bail, which caused a flare of amusement in the man’s dark eyes.

Anakin groaned but quickly feel asleep, a small smile on his face, while Obi-Wan, Padmé and Bail happily talked politics until the shadows lengthened and night fell peacefully on Coruscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff. Padmé/Anakin if you squint hard. And Padmé/Anakin/Obi-Wan if you squint even harder lol. Or you can consider it Padmé and Obi-Wan/Anakin. Something for everyone.


	6. Drinks with Hondo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Obi-Wan’s lilting voice was as clear and precise as ever, just…slower. Like he was trying very hard to sound in control.'

“What is even in this hell drink anyway,” Anakin demanded, feeling the world around him go fuzzy after only his second sip. He lifted the glass up to glare at its contents suspiciously. Or he would have if the glass hadn’t suddenly doubled until there were two alcoholic beverages swimming before his eyes. He blinked, confused. And then blinked again as this seemed to help. When there was only one drink before him again, he resumed his suspicious glaring but couldn’t quite remember why anymore. Shrugging, he took another sip.

Warmth travelled pleasantly through him with a faint tingling sensation, and even more of his concern drifted away until there was only a distant buzz in his head.

From by his side, Obi-Wan snorted with amusement. “Can’t hold your liquor, Anakin?” he teased.

Anakin felt amusement of his own. Obi-Wan’s lilting voice was as clear and precise as ever, just…slower. Like he was trying very hard to sound in control.

Smirking, Anakin turned to face his Master and felt a different sort of heat travel down his spine and begin to pool low in his stomach. Obi-Wan looked…

His usually immaculate hair was slightly tousled, several soft strands drifting down across his face, causing Anakin’s fingers to twitch with the urge to gently brush them aside. The low lighting of Hondo’s hideout-slash-bar caused his copper hair and beard to shimmer with gold every time he moved. He was relaxed, leaning indolently against the bar as he looked over at Anakin, lips lazily curled into a small smile.

His eyes – brilliantly blue-green – were slightly hazy under heavy lids, but they were fixed unwaveringly upon Anakin; intent and intense. Obi-Wan rarely bestowed that look upon his former Padawan – his complete and undivided attention unsoftened by the usual exasperation or soft fondness.

Anakin shivered, feeling another wave of…of _want_ travel through him, and unconsciously licked his lips.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered downwards, his own lips curling further upwards in a wry smile which looked almost like a smirk. Surely due to a trick of the lighting.

Anakin shivered again. “Master,” he murmured, through suddenly heavy lips. His shields were shot, and he could feel Obi-Wan in the Force. His Master looked slightly disheveled, and felt almost dangerous, golden and warm with power. He knew Obi-Wan had spoken, said something and Anakin needed to respond, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, recall the words. “Master,” he said again, attempting to lean over and rest his now-throbbing head against the other man’s shoulder. But he misguided the distance, falling heavily against his Master and almost sending them both toppling to the ground.

Obi-Wan’s low chuckle was a rumble against Anakin’s ear, his arms anchoring the younger man to him. His lips were soft, and his beard rubbed against Anakin’s over-sensitive skin as delicious warmth drowned Anakin through their bond, until the only noise he heard was Obi-Wan’s beloved voice as he murmured, “You have no idea what you do to me, do you.”

No words came, the only sound escaping him was a faint moan as he buried his face in the hollow of his Master’s throat, hands fisting in the soft fabric of his tabard. Obi-Wan’s pulse hammered against Anakin’s lips and he smelled clean like the laundry detergent the Temple used, and warm like cinnamon, and musky like sweat.

He smelled like home, like everything Anakin had ever dreamed of. And all those other noises, that never-ending cacophony from the Force, that ever-present, gnawing fear of failure and loss and darkness, were gone. All that was in his head was Obi-Wan.

Anakin let himself fall into that golden warmth, let it consume him, and heard Obi-Wan gasp as he lowered his own shields entirely.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded dazed.

Anakin raised his head, lips skimming over Obi-Wan’s jaw and the prickly sensation of his beard. His hands rose, trembling, to thread through soft, copper hair. Their eyes met even as the world spun…

…and everything went dark.

Anakin groaned as he tried to open his eyes and sit up. His limbs were heavy, his head throbbed like an army of Seppies was marching through it, and the sun was making a valiant attempt to bore a hole through his skull, as it poured between the bars of their…cell.

Wait…what?

Beside him, Obi-Wan also groaned and sat up. He assessed their situation immediately. His blue-grey eyes met Anakin’s and something interesting flared in them, his presence in the Force feeling momentarily uncertain.

“We were drugged. Obviously,” the Jedi Master said, shrugging as though to say that anything which had occurred was easily explained away.

_Obviously_ , Anakin thought. Obi-Wan was a Jedi and his Master. He was married to _Padmé_. But Obi-Wan was still so disheveled, his presence in the Force still vaguely uncertain…and there was no one here to see…

From the corner of the cell, Count Dooku cleared his throat loudly.

The anticipation in his gut sank like a stone. Anakin had never been so grateful to see a Sith Lord in his life and had never wanted to strangle one more. “Dooku,” he snarled, and felt nauseous; the noise in his head roared louder than ever.

Kriff, he needed Padmé. That’s all this was. When they got back to Coruscant…

But right now, he and Obi-Wan were both tied to a Sith Lord and being held captive by pirates. Anakin groaned. This day couldn’t get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having a lot of fun writing these. 
> 
> There were tons of influences for this chapter (to give credit where it’s due): from various other fanfics, to Karen Miller’s description of how Anakin views Obi-Wan’s Force presence as golden and warm, to my enduring love of that scene in 'The Clone Wars' where Obi-Wan and Anakin clink glasses and smile at each other in Hondo’s bar.


	7. An Ice Cave on Hoth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘“This was entirely Anakin’s fault,” he explained.’

Obi-Wan would readily admit the situation did not look good.

Arctic wind – far below freezing and sending cold straight through to the Jedi Master’s bones – screamed around them, stirring up the hard-packed ice on the ground and sending it stinging into their unprotected faces. Obi-Wan ducked his face further downwards, tugged his hood up as far as it would go, and then reached out to gently touch the back of Anakin’s hand with his fingertips.

Night was rapidly descending on this ice-covered rock and with it went the little bit of warmth which would send it from dangerous all the way to lethal. Anakin, susceptible to the cold in a way only those raised in a desert could be, stuck to Obi-Wan’s side like glue. His presence in the Force was miserable and his chattering teeth were audible even over the howling of the wind. Now, Obi-Wan directed his attention to a jagged line of hills or mountains just visible through the icy-snow and darkening sky.

Anakin nodded and then leaned closer to speak in Obi-Wan’s ear. “Do you think we’ll make it before we freeze to death?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, trying to keep his worry from his former Padawan. Anakin’s lips were like ice against his ear and his Force presence felt alarmingly dim. He glanced up into bright, blue eyes under ice-covered eyebrows, and tried to smile. “Only one way to find out.”

They took a few more steps before Obi-Wan added in a dry tone, “You realize that this is entirely your doing, my young, former apprentice, and if you had just followed orders we wouldn’t be in this particular predicament.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault Grievous’ guards had better aim than before! They must have been upgraded,” he mused.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “It _is_ your fault, Anakin, when you ignore Master Koth’s direct order to return to the ship and then subsequently get shot down.”

“Hey!”

Obi-Wan shook his head and trudged another few steps. “I can’t believe you crashed _another_ ship.”

“It’s not my fault!” Anakin had to half-run to keep up with Obi-Wan’s strides. “That ship was too slow!”

“Yes, it was the ship’s fault.” Obi-Wan’s sarcasm could have cut through transparisteel.

“It was!”

Obi-Wan snorted expressively and hid a smile. Anakin was so indignant that he seemed to have forgotten completely about the cold and was now striding across the landscape as though it had personally offended him.

Night fell just as they reached the line of cliffs. Obi-Wan and Anakin raised hands out as one and felt in the Force for any, potentially antagonistic and hungry, life forms, before mutually deciding on a rather smallish-cave situated some ways into the mountain range.

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief as they finally moved out of the wind. He tried to shake the ice out of his beard and vigorously stamped his boot-covered feet to get some circulation. Anakin, meanwhile, poked around the caved suspiciously.

“You don’t think this is a wampa cave, do you?” he asked.

Obi-Wan had only read about the fierce, carnivorous and – most importantly – large beasts that survived the frigid temperatures of Hoth. And he wanted to keep it that way.

“I don’t think so. No bones,” he explained. A wampa cave would usually be filled with them.

“I hate this planet,” Anakin muttered, coming back over to Obi-Wan’s side and sitting down next to him for added warmth. The Jedi Master was now attempting to massage some life back into his arms and legs.

“Not to worry,” he said, “I’m sure Ahsoka is already looking for us. She knows how you operate.” After a short pause he added,” When she gets here I’m going to bloody hug her,” surprising a short laugh from Anakin at his language.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Anakin sounded highly amused. “I think if you hugged her, Snips might actually die of shock.”

“Come now Anakin,” Obi-Wan reproved mildly, “our Padawan is made of sterner stuff than that.”

Anakin’s smile at the ‘our’ warmed him more than he would ever admit.

Some time later Obi-Wan murmured, “We should get up and move around a bit,” but it was half-hearted at best. He was strangely lethargic, and Anakin was a warm weight along his side.

Anakin tried to burrow even further into Obi-Wan until he was half-way in the other man’s lap. “Cold,” he mumbled, almost a whimper, with eyes that refused to open and tiny icicles on his eyelashes.

Obi-Wan was suddenly, terribly, certain that they wouldn’t last much longer; certainly not long enough to get through the night. Desperately he tried to reach out to Ahsoka through the Force.

“Too far away,” Anakin murmured, barely above a whisper. “Tried already.”

Obi-Wan shifted until they were both lying down, bundled bodies entangled tightly together so as to conserve as much of their internal heat as possible. Anakin placed his hands between them, wrapping his gloves around the fur on Obi-Wan’s coat, sighing happily.

“Don’t go to sleep, Anakin,” Obi-Wan warned, visions of the other man freezing to death in his arms dancing before his eyes.

“Wasn’t,” Anakin mumbled rebelliously from somewhere around the region of Obi-Wan’s throat, where he was attempting to burrow through layers of clothing in search of more warmth. Through their bond, he felt strangely…satisfied and guiltily…exhilarated?

Obi-Wan was amused. “I can feel you, you know,” he commented, and the guilt intensified but a flare of stubbornness jointed it and Obi-Wan was even more amused.

“We’re going to die,” Anakin muttered, defensively, and Obi-Wan was no longer amused.

“Yes,” he murmured, drawing Anakin closer. He had always thought he’d go down in battle, not from something like hypothermia.

“Always knew I’d die beside you,” Anakin said quietly, a peace to his presence Obi-Wan rarely felt. His lips brushed over Obi-Wan’s throat, causing him to shiver from how cold they were. For a moment he felt his mind wander to how those lips would feel against his own. Just once. Here at the end. Anakin had grown into an extraordinary young man, his best friend, the one person he…

Obi-Wan pressed cold lips to his padawan’s forehead. “I always knew I’d die with you too.” _Beloved_ , he did not add aloud.

Ahsoka found them like that, unconscious and wrapped in one another’s embrace. Her frantic cries roused them more effectively than the warm thermos-blankets the clones smothered them in.

And contrary to Anakin’s dire predictions, when Obi-Wan folded her in his arms and placed a gentle kiss between her montrals, Ahsoka just hugged him back and sighed in relief.

“This was entirely Anakin’s fault,” he explained, and she laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The universal ‘freezing to death’ trope, haha. I read a really go one once from Anakin’s point of view and I’ve been longing to know what Obi-Wan was thinking during it. Now we know. Also, Anakin has always struck me as a very tactile person. All those years without touch while in the suit must have been pure torment. Thank you so much for all your lovely comments and kudos. They make my day!
> 
> Oh, and Dooku was thinking in the last chapter…… ‘Typical. It would be those two’…….and ‘I’m evil, why do I still have to put up with this crap’……and ‘Sweet Force, kill me now!.....and he thinks Kenobi could do much better than Skywalker (But Palpatine thinks Anakin could do much better than Obi-Wan, lol).


	8. Obi-Wan and the Mandalorian Duchess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…And you, Kenobi, you’re no stranger to violence. You’d be hailed as a hero by everyone on the ship. Well, almost everyone.” Tal Merrick laughs.  
> Obi-Wan glances at Satine.  
> “Come on, then. Who will strike first and brand themselves a cold-blooded killer?”  
> Anakin stabs Tal Merrik through the chest from behind, killing him.  
> “Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, half-reproving, half-amused.  
> “What? He was gonna blow up the ship.”  
> \- The Clone Wars, Voyage of Temptation

Anakin had thought it was fine, that it didn’t matter. They were both alright, and the mission was… _mostly_ a success. After all, the Duchess of Mandalore was safe.

Satine seemed like a rather remarkable woman. Like Padmé. And so what if Obi-Wan liked her… _really_ liked her. It wasn’t like Obi-Wan and he were…Obi-Wan was his _Master_. Would always be his Master, no matter what he said about it. And his best friend. And the one person he would always trust to have his back. To save him.

So what if he had never told Anakin about Satine?

A quick flash of guilt reminded him that _he_ had never told Obi-Wan about Padmé. Although Ahsoka often told him he wouldn’t know the meaning of subtlety if it but him, so his old Master had probably guessed something was going on between his former Padawan and the Naboo Senator…

But whatever. It was fine. Obi-Wan had a girlfriend. So what?

Unbidden, Obi-Wan’s voice as he spoke to the woman rose up in his memory. _Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order._

Anakin swallowed roughly, the words – in his Master’s soft, sincere voice – still felt as much a punch in the gut as they had the first time he’d heard them. Obi-Wan would have left the Jedi. Left for _her_.

Padmé had asked him to leave the Order. Once. Right after they were married, and he was sat next to the quiet waters of a Naboo lake, holding her in his arms. The setting sun had turned her dark curls almost copper and her voice had been the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

“I can’t leave,” he had told her, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, Padmé, but I can’t leave Obi-Wan to fight this war alone.”

And she had never asked him again.

But Obi-Wan would have left. For _her_.

Anakin felt anger course through him, so strong he felt vaguely nauseous. His hands clenched around the controls of the ship, his eyes unseeing even as he punched in more commands. Obi-Wan was a distant presence in the co-pilot’s seat but Anakin could still feel his concern…

And he hated that woman! He slammed a fist into a recalcitrant panel with far more force than necessary. He hated her stupid blond hair and those clear blue eyes. And that calm disposition. And her wit and banter with Obi-Wan. And her stupid, inflexible morals!

He had killed that terrorist because…well, because he would have blown up the ship of course, but also because he wanted Satine Kryze to hate him a little.

He wanted to show Obi-Wan that they were warriors, not pacifists, that _he_ would always do what was needed, and that he would never judge Obi-Wan for doing the same. Unlike _her_.

But afterwards she had placed a gentle hand against his cheek and said, “I am glad he has you beside him, Anakin Skywalker. I know you will keep him safe.”

And he _hated_ her. He slammed a hand against the Nav computer.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan snapped reprovingly and Anakin stood, whirling to face him, furious and knowing his eyes were wild.

“What?!” The Force flared around him violently.

Rex and Cody, who were behind the two Jedi in the cockpit, cleared their throats and hurriedly left to find somewhere else to be. They pushed Artoo out in front of them.

Obi-wan watched the door hiss shut and shook his head in mild exasperation. He took a deep breath, as though searching for patience, as though Anakin was _always_ the irrational one, and stood up slowly to face his former Padawan.

He folded his arms and arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to tell me what has been bothering you since we left the Duchess?”

Anakin flinched at the title, the _respect_ in Obi-Wan’s voice. Then he looked up and glared furiously at his Master.

“Nothing,” he spat, “is bothering me.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Anakin, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.” Always so reasonable, so untouchable. Except, apparently, by _her_.

Anakin growled and took a menacing step forward, shoving Obi-Wan back in the tiny cockpit until his shoulders hit the wall. Anakin’s hands gripped hard enough around the Obi-Wan’s arms to bruise and the Force crackled between them. Anakin could feel his Master’s slight confusion and concern for his Padawan, but no fear or alarm even as Anakin loomed over him. Undaunted in the slightest, Obi-Wan’s eyebrow rose slightly higher.

“So, do I take this to mean that something _is_ bothering you, Anakin?” he snarked. Anakin had always known Obi-Wan would waltz into danger and flirt with it.

It was so…so _Obi-Wan_ that Anakin felt the rage drain out of him in an instant. He relaxed his suddenly shaking arms and leaned forward until he could rest his head against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. A weak laugh was unwillingly wrenched from him even as he closed his eyes, breathing in Obi-Wan’s familiar scent, and the hurt threatened to consume him.

Obi-Wan was warm, and his arms came up hesitantly around Anakin’s back even if he didn’t like physical displays of affection, and his heart beat in time with Anakin’s own. And Obi-Wan had not wanted any of it.

Anakin wrenched himself away.

“You would have left…the Jedi for her?” he demanded. His hands clenched uselessly at his sides and the words, _Left me? Left Ahsoka?_ were held back only through extreme force of will. “You’re a Jedi. I can’t see you as anything _but_ a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan still looked confused. He studied Anakin’s face carefully and then licked his lips before opening them to answer. “It was a long time ago, Anakin. Before I even met you. We have both chosen different paths since then. I – ”

But Anakin held up a hand cutting him off. All he wanted to do was step forward and grab Obi-Wan, kiss those wet, pink lips until Obi-Wan went pliant in his arms and moaned Anakin’s name, and make him admit that he couldn’t leave Anakin.

Because Anakin, apparently, couldn’t ever leave Obi-Wan. _Force, he was pathetic_.

With a low oath, Anakin realized he was still staring at Obi-Wan’s lips, at his slender throat as he swallowed, at those strong hands which were reaching out towards him…

He stumbled back, hastily dropping his eyes. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.” And he fled, determined to avoid his Master for the rest of the trip.

Behind him, Obi-Wan dropped his hands back to his sides. “I would leave the Order for you, Anakin. You wouldn’t even have to ask. If you ever left, I would follow. I always would have.”

But the other man was too far away to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Miscommunication,' a novel by Kenobi and Skywalker. This was inspired by the Obi-Wan and Anakin comic, where Obi-Wan tells Yoda that if Anakin ever left the Order, Obi-Wan would follow him.
> 
> See, not all fluff. We’ll get back to the fluff next chapter. Promise.


	9. Drugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Master.” Anakin’s breath smelled of Corellian brandy and his voice was rough with possession and…want.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to keep his voice steady, even as his former Padawan draped himself over the back of the couch and nuzzled his face against the back of Obi-Wan’s neck.

Anakin’s nose was cold.

Obi-Wan shivered and felt hands skating up his chest, brushing feather-light against his throat, until they reached Obi-Wan’s chin. Tilting the Jedi Master’s head slightly towards him, Anakin’s eyes were closed as he brushed his lips over Obi-Wan’s cheek and then nuzzled against him once more.

“Master.” Anakin's breath smelled of Corellian brandy and his voice was rough with possession and… _want_.

Obi-Wan tried to pull away. “Anakin, what are you doing?” He tried to go for stern, but his voice shook, and he cleared his throat hurriedly. “What have you been drinking?” Anakin’s presence in the Force felt fuzzy and befuddled.

But Anakin refused to let go, tumbling over the back of the couch and almost rolling right into the glass table in front of it. Obi-Wan grabbed him, hauling the younger man into his arms and ignoring the datapad and the steaming cup of tea which went flying to the floor as a result.

Anakin was a pliant, boneless weight in his arms, head resting against Obi-Wan’s chest and the rest of him in Obi-Wan’s lap.

The younger man’s eyes fluttered, looking up at Obi-Wan with clear trust in them. He sighed happily, turning his face into Obi-Wan’s tunic as his hands attempted to sneak under the folds of his robes.

Obi-Wan jumped as calloused fingers and leather skated over the skin on his stomach. He felt suddenly dizzy.

“Anakin, what have you been drinking?” he demanded, peering into Anakin’s eyes to study his heavily dilated pupils, while trying to wriggle away from those questing fingers at the same time.

The Jedi Master had been looking forward to a quiet evening in his room after the rather difficult negotiations he and Anakin had been conducting on Kuat. He had left the feast as soon as politeness allowed, and Anakin had promised to turn in not long after. Now his solitude had been interrupted by an Anakin who seemed to have lost all inhibitions and was alarmingly muddled.

Obi-Wan removed Anakin’s hands from inside his tunic and tried to look sternly into those puzzled blue eyes. “Anakin,” he said softly, in a tone not to be argued with. “What did you drink after I was gone? Did anyone give you anything?”

Anakin seemed distracted, eyes dropping to Obi-Wan’s lips as he licked his own. He giggled. “Master,” he staged whispered. “Master, have you ever wanted to fuck me?”

“What?!”

“Uh, ah ah,” Anakin said in a sing-song voice, holding on tighter and waving a finger under Obi-Wan’s nose as the Jedi Master tried to pull away. “Padmé says the whole Republic thinks we’re together. It’s on the HoloNet,” he confided. He tried to lever himself up, fingers tangling in the back of Obi-Wan’s hair and made a disconsolate noise when his shaky limbs wouldn’t cooperate. “Do you, Master?” he pleaded.

“Do I what, Anakin?” Obi-Wan murmured, distracted. He was scanning his Padawan carefully in the Force. He would need to do a blood analysis to be absolutely certain, but Anakin looked to be mostly alright. His mind was a mess and there was something foreign in his bloodstream, but all it seemed to be intended to do was completely lower a Jedi’s control over himself.

Someone in the Kuati delegation had probably just wanted to interrogate Anakin for information but hadn’t counted on the fact that the Jedi Knight would immediately wander away to go find his former Master and demand answers about their relationship.

Obi-Wan’s arms tightened unconsciously. _Thank the Force Anakin is so possessive_ , Obi-Wan thought, for maybe the first time in his life. He refused to think of all the other possibilities for why someone would want to drug a young, handsome Jedi – a celebrity – like Anakin Skywalker.

“Master!” Anakin all-bit whined, wriggling in Obi-Wan’s arms. His fingers tugged in Obi-Wan’s hair and the Jedi Master winced.

“Yes, Anakin,” he murmured, untangling those fingers and sliding out from under his Padawan. He knelt beside the couch but Anakin, in a surprising display of coordination, lifted himself on one elbow, reaching for Obi-Wan before pulling him close and pressing his face into the hollow of his Master’s throat.

Obi-Wan felt those lips brush over his hammering pulse point.

“Fuck me, Master.” That voice vibrated through Obi-Wan, causing a spark of heat to flare low in his gut. “Please?” Anakin’s voice, pleading and desperate and rough, caused that heat to shoot southwards, a wave of almost dizziness swamping him. Obi-Wan pulled back, shocked and ashamed at his own reactions.

He pushed Anakin gently away from him and back onto the couch. “The only thing you’re doing, my young apprentice, is sleeping off whatever drug they gave you.” He stretched out Anakin’s legs and placed a pillow under his head. “And the only thing I want to do,” he continued in a low, decided murmur, uncomfortably aware of Anakin’s eyes following his movements, “is spank you like a child, for taking a drink from an unknown source.”

Anakin’s eyes widened in shock and then they fluttered as his back arched and he released a sound, low in his throat, which caused Obi-Wan’s cheeks to flame.

“Would you, Master?” he breathed huskily, and his leather hand hovered in the air for a moment and then skated down the smooth planes of his stomach, down towards his hips, which were rising lazily, and the bulge which was visibly tenting his pants.  

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “Anakin,” he snapped, “stop that at once!”

Anakin’s hand froze, trembling but his eyes closed, and he moaned, the muscles in his neck straining as he arched further off the couch, his cock twitching at Obi-Wan’s voice and a drop of pre-cum wetting the tip and leaking through the fabric.

Obi-Wan tore his eyes away from the sight, swallowing thickly and turning to find Anakin’s heavily lidded eyes fixed on his face. The young man’s flesh hand reached up to softly brush Obi-Wan’s cheek and beard.

“Yes, Master,” he croaked, in a voice so rough that Obi-Wan found himself leaning forward, wanting to claim those soft, parted lips in his own, wanting to see if Anakin would come apart just from the sound of his voice…

Obi-Wan groaned, feeling shame and lust swirling through him so strongly that he felt vaguely ill. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against the shell of Anakin’s ear.

He breathed in Anakin’s familiar scent of engine grease and musk and closed his eyes. No one would ever know. He felt Anakin’s anticipation, the fluttering arousal which filled him, the aching need which was burning up his gut. _Force, what am I supposed to do?_ he thought, even as his pulse pounded in his ears and he wanted to reach out and _touch_ his Padawan.

“I’m going to take a shower. You will be done, and sleeping, when I get back, Anakin,” he commanded, feeling the shudder which ran through the younger man, the hum of acknowledgement in his throat.

Obi-Wan fled and took the coldest shower of his life. When he went to check on him later, Anakin was asleep, his presence satisfied in the Force. The Jedi Master, however, spent the entire night staring sightlessly up at a dark ceiling.

The next morning, Anakin looked ashamed and wary. “Did I do anything… _wrong_?” he asked hesitantly, obviously sensing Obi-Wan’s discomfort, as well as noticing the fact that the Jedi Master couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You don’t remember?”

The younger man shook his head, shifting from foot to foot and his dread mounting in the Force between them.

“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly, “you didn’t do anything wrong.” He flashed back to Anakin’s reaction to his commands, the arousal that burned through him at Obi-Wan’s voice, and felt sick, and a bit _thrilled_.

Anakin looked relieved and somewhat disappointed.

_No, Anakin, he thought, the only one who did anything wrong was me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has an authority kink. I’m not sure if they’re still in character here…I kind of feel like Obi-Wan would never even consider…. anything while Anakin was drugged, but I like this chapter so I’m leaving it. Any thoughts?


	10. Truth or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan tries to avoid the truth and Anakin doesn’t quite take the dare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jedi Knights play Truth or Dare.

“Truth or Dare, Kenobi,” challenged Quinlan Vos, with a particular glint in his eye which made Obi-Wan uneasy.

Aayla Secura, seated cross-legged next to her former Master, rolled her eyes. Ahsoka, looking between Vos and her grandmaster – now staring intently at each other as though readying for a duel – giggled.

Obi-Wan took a sip of java juice while he weighed his options. _What could Quinlan actually know about him anyway?_

“Truth,” he said calmly.

Vos smirked.

_Kriff._

“Have you ever had inappropriate thoughts about your Padawan?”

From beside him, Anakin, who had been strangely silent most of the evening, looked up from his minute inspection of his own juice in interest. His eyes were blue as a cloudless sky and as he met Obi-Wan’s gaze there was a tremor across their bond.

_Shavit_ , Obi-Wan thought.

Ahsoka looked to be holding her breath, eyes darting between Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Vos’ smirk grew. “Just to set you more at ease” – he took a sip of his, undoubtedly alcoholic, drink – “of course, I have.”

Aayla rolled her eyes again. “You’ve had inappropriate thoughts about everyone and everything,” she said in her Ryloth-accented voice, sounding utterly unperturbed and faintly amused.

Quinlan looked proud. “Of course, I have. And you’re a very attractive woman, so it’s entirely natural.”

Ahsoka looked vaguely disgusted, as Aayla laughed.

Anakin choked on his drink and looked horrified. “I have _never_ thought of Ahsoka that way,” he declared loudly.

“Thank you, Master,” said Ahsoka, sounding relieved.

Vos waved a hand. “Never mind that now,” he said loftily. “We’re waiting to hear Kenobi’s answer. Curious minds want to know.”

“Deviant minds want to know,” Aayla grumbled, though even she looked interested.

But Obi-Wan had had a moment to contemplate. He met Quinlan’s gaze blandly. “Yes, I’ve had thoughts unworthy of a Jedi about punishing Anakin after he repeatedly refused to listen to me.” Obi-Wan took another sip of java juice. “As all Masters do of their padawans, I’m sure.”

Aayla’s smile was genuinely amused and Vos groaned. “Play against the Negotiator,” he said ruefully.

Anakin looked somewhat disappointed. Then he brightened. “Like spanking?” he asked slyly and Obi-Wan had a minor heart attack, eyes flying to his Padawan’s face.

_Anakin said he hadn’t remembered any of that!_

He flashed back to drugged revelations and Anakin’s hungry arousal flooding their bond, his blissed-out face as he heard Obi-Wan’s voice…

The Jedi Master hurriedly cleared his throat. “No, Anakin,” he said repressively. “No spanking.”

Ahsoka let out a loud laugh, turning red and hiding her face in her cup as the other four Jedi looked at her. “Sorry,” she muttered, not sounding sorry at all.

Quinlan looked highly amused, Anakin shot his Padawan a reproving look and Obi-Wan sighed.

_Now, if they could just move on._

“I think my Master meant inappropriate thoughts of a _sexual nature_.” Aayla’s voice was so studiously neutral that it took everyone else a moment to process her words.

And then the room fell silent.

Quinlan cackled in delight. “That’s my girl.”

Obi-Wan shot his fellow Jedi Master a betrayed look but he smoothly said, “No, I’ve never had inappropriate thoughts of a sexual nature about my Padawan. Now can we move on?” His voice was that of General Kenobi’s, and no one argued with it.

Anakin dropped his gaze listlessly back to his cup.

Ahsoka raised an eyebrow and then hastily lowered it and ate a zemra chip when Obi-Wan glanced at her.

Obi-Wan looked over at his former Padawan, took in the younger man’s broad shoulders, now hunched inwards, those strong hands turning his cup around between them, the lock of hair which fell across his face. He was biting his full-bottomed lip and his long, soft lashes drifted down over ruddy cheeks. Restlessly he shifted position, hands clenching tightly around the cup. His presence in the Force was stunning, wild and powerful; a summer thunderstorm which left everything fresh and cool in its wake.

Obi-Wan felt a jolt of desire roll through him, leaving him hot and flustered.

No, he had never looked at Anakin with want when the other had been his Padawan. He had been precisely truthful about that. Now, though…now it was sometimes all he could think about.

Anakin looked up and their eyes locked, blue on blue, the Force resonating between them. Obi-Wan swallowed, feeling Anakin’s Force-presence brush against his.

“Skywalker, it’s your turn. Truth or Dare.”

Sometimes Jedi Master Quinlan Vos was a real pain in the rear end.

Anakin didn’t look away from Obi-Wan. “Dare.”

Obi-Wan could feel Quinlan’s satisfaction through the Force and he wanted to punch his old friend. The Jedi Master saw Ahsoka shaking her head vigorously from his other side.

“I dare you to k—”

Aayla clamped a hand over Vos’ mouth. “I dare you to tell your master how you really feel about him.” Her voice was all Jedi, but she regarded the two men before her with slight mischief. “You’re a Jedi Knight now. I’m sure you have something to tell him after all your years as his student.”

Four pairs of Jedi eyes watched the sole Jedi Knight in the room intently.

Anakin didn’t notice. He never took his gaze from his Master, eyes roaming hungrily over the other man’s familiar features. “We’re a team,” the young Jedi Knight said at last, voice hesitant but sincere. “You’re my Master,” he continued slowly, “my other half.”

And then, so softly that the others almost didn’t hear him, “The Force sings when we’re together,” he admitted, before flushing and dropping his eyes back to his hands.

Obi-Wan’s heart was pounding too fast, and he couldn’t seem to look away from his Padawan. The bond between them vibrated low and melodious, thrumming within the Jedi Master’s bones, pooling deep in his gut.

He had known that Anakin cared about him, that the young man was even attracted to him, but this –

There was a long silence.

“Perhaps we have had enough for today,” Jedi Master Aayla Secura suggested and Obi-Wan nodded, numbly, in agreement.

“Do you need any help cleaning up, Master Secura?” Ahsoka asked. She was unable to look at her either of her masters, but equally unable to prevent the smile which curled the corners of her lips.

As they all stood up, Anakin kept his eyes lowered, his presence embarrassed in the Force. Without thinking, Obi-Wan reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Anakin startled, looked up at a him, and Obi-Wan smiled, hoping it would say everything he couldn’t express out loud.

Anakin smiled back.

“Master Kenobi?” Ahsoka called from Aayla’s kitchen. “Master Vos thinks now would be a great time for a baking competition and I think Master Secura is going to kill him.”

She sounded more amused than alarmed.

“You tell Master Vos that if he doesn’t let Aayla go to bed soon, I’ll tell her all about that little escapade on Devaron.”

Quinlan’s dramatic gasp and betrayed shout of “Kenobi!” caused Anakin and Ahsoka to start laughing.

Obi-Wan smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan would totally play Truth or Dare like a Ravenclaw.


	11. A Quiet Night to Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘It was the idea of him being out of control that drew Anakin tight with longing, his heart pounding, mostly because it was so rare Obi-Wan let go of it.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit Content. So, this chapter got away from me. I promised myself that this Obi-Wan/Anakin story would be mostly PG. Unlike my other ones, lol. But Anakin…. had his own ideas.

Anakin leaned back against the comfortable cushions of Obi-Wan’s couch and closed his eyes with a tired sigh. The HoloNet was on low, the news talking about some attack that had taken place on Corellia and the Chancellor’s regrets that the Jedi had failed to prevent it. Anakin tuned it out, focusing instead on the soft sounds of Obi-Wan making tea in his small kitchen.

His Master was absently humming to himself in a way that suggested he was unaware of doing so. Anakin had always loved his Master’s voice – a rich, refined tenor – and had often listened when Obi-Wan was in the shower while, thinking Anakin gone or unaware, he would sing everything from themes on famous HoloNet shows to traditional folk tunes from far-off planets. Anakin’s favorite had always been a Tatooine lullaby which his mother used to sing him.

She had only known the first verse but the sound of her rough, worn but loving voice was a childhood memory he would never forget.

Anakin had no idea when or where Obi-Wan had learned it but listening to his Master sing it softly in his perfect voice had centered Anakin more than any amount of meditation ever had.

He smiled softly now as Obi-Wan transitioned into humming it. His presence was still unaware in the Force, but Anakin couldn’t help reaching out and casually brushing his Master’s presence with his own. Obi-Wan’s Force-presence was warm and relaxed, soothing like the still waters of a deep lake. Automatically his Master reached back, and then Anakin was drowning in glorious, golden heat.

It was wonderful. Perfect. A gift from the Force itself. There was nothing in his head but Obi-Wan anymore. Anakin opened himself up completely.

A wave of heat raced through him, filling every vein. Anakin could feel Obi-Wan in every part of him, feel his fond bemusement, his quiet contentment, the faint unease as he brushed up against Anakin’s…

Anakin’s eyes flew open and he hastily drew back from his Master a bit.

_…darkness, fear, longing, secrets and lies, Padmé, death, desperation, desire, need, want, Obi-Wan’s voice, soft copper hair, parted lips…_

Anakin hastily threw up his shields and tried to steady his breathing. He ran a shaking hand through his hair.

_How much had Obi-Wan seen? Force, that had been too deep._

A moment of silence passed before Obi-Wan moved into the sitting area. “You’re in a strange mood tonight, Anakin,” he commented mildly, bare feet making no noise on the thick carpets. His hair was slightly tousled, and the combined effect made Anakin’s normally immaculate Master look somewhat disheveled.

Anakin’s stomach dropped like he was in freefall, a warm ball of desire beginning to grow.

The scent of that tea his master always favored – warm and spicy, some mixture of cinnamon and cardamom – drifted over to Anakin. He handed his Padawan something spicy as well; rum. It burned Anakin’s throat as he quickly took a sip.

Obi-Wan gave him another strange look as Anakin Force-called the rest of the rum from the kitchen and re-filled his glass. “Are you sure you’re alright, Anakin?” And he bent to examine Anakin’s eyes, that damnable lock of hair falling down across his forehead.

Anakin’s fingers itched to reach out. “Yup, yeah fine!” he yelped hurriedly.

Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin’s forehead and Anakin almost whimpered from the jolt which shot through him at that touch. His eyes closed of their own accord, but he could feel Obi-Wan’s frown. “You’re a bit flushed.” The Jedi Master sounded vaguely concerned.

“Mm hmm,” Anakin said, trying not to breathe. Obi-Wan’s fingers were soft, barely grazing skin as he brushed Anakin’s hair back. He was so close Anakin could feel the heat of him, smell that scent which was uniquely Obi-Wan.

Oh Force, he just wanted to draw Obi-Wan closer, right between his legs, bury his face in the other man’s stomach and nuzzle there, hear Obi-Wan’s indrawn breath, feel him start to stir and harden at Anakin’s touch…

He pulled back from those gentle fingers. “Never been better, Master!” His voice was still too high. He cleared his throat quickly. “Just a bit restless. Ahsoka’s out with Barriss tonight, so I don’t quite know what to do with myself.”

_And Padmé is busy with Bail and Mon Mothma, or I would be buried so far into her that I would be screaming her name as she rode me –_

He choked on his drink, coughing as he tried to dispel that image even as arousal rolled through him, igniting every nerve ending.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem to notice as he moved to sit next to Anakin on the couch. He stretched out his legs and cradled his tea in his hands. “And so you thought you would come harass your old Master?” he teased, turning the HoloNet to one of those daytime show re-runs he usually denied watching. “Well, you are always welcome, Anakin, you know that,” he said, eyes fixed on the screen and already engrossed. He shifted his hips a bit, getting comfortable.

Anakin flashed to an image of Obi-Wan riding him, those strong legs wrapped around him, Anakin so deep that all he could feel was his Master, Anakin thrusting upwards as Obi-Wan moaned tightly and his head fell back…

Anakin hastily took another drink. Karking hell, what was wrong with him tonight?

He took yet another sip and felt the rum burn pleasantly through him, the tingles of his arousal settling a little. _It’s just been too long since I’ve been with Padmé, that’s all_ , he reassured himself, chancing another glance at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was smiling, his blue-grey eyes alight with amusement at whatever was happening on the HoloNet. He turned to grin at Anakin before passing him a plate of jogan fruit and some of Dex’s fried chura root chips.

“I have no idea how you can like these shows?” Anakin grumbled, but his heart wasn’t into it. His Master was relaxed and open beside Anakin, his clothes in elegant dishabille, his hand besides Anakin’s on the sofa, palm open and fingers up, his hair mussed and his feet bare. He looked…he looked…

It was the idea of him being out of control that drew Anakin tight with longing, his heart pounding, mostly because it was so rare Obi-Wan let go of it.

With a jolt that started in the pit of his stomach and shot inconveniently southward, Anakin watched his Master rub a contemplative finger over his lips, absently back and forth as he studied the complexities of his show. “Things are getting interesting,” he commented.

Anakin grunted, eyes following Obi-Wan’s tea cup as it rose to meet those full lips, watched him lick the wetness off them, lingered on the motion of his throat as he swallowed, and was drawn again to those lips as Obi-Wan pressed them together in thought.

Something deep within him ached to reach over, thread his fingers into his Master’s hair and find out what those lips tasted like.

“Master?” one-part exhalation, one-part desperate plea.

Obi-Wan started, turned to looked at him, eyes widening as Anakin’s flesh hand rose to tangle in that glorious hair. Anakin’s heart was pounding harder than ever –

The door slid open with a loud “whoosh.”

Anakin jumped, spilling his drink, and cursed loudly.

Ahsoka bounded through the door even as Obi-Wan said, “Anakin! Language.”

Ahsoka laughed. She looked bright-eyed and happy, grinning with joy. “Masters,” she greeted, before stopping and taking in Obi-Wan’s slightly frazzled appearance and Anakin’s flushed face. Her eyes grew huge. “Maybe I’ll just go –” she began.

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “Anakin and I were just watching a show. Please, join us.”

Ahsoka dithered a second longer, shooting Anakin an apologetic look before she crossed the room and plopped herself down on Obi-Wan’s other side, curling into him to get comfortable.

Obi-Wan put an arm around her, bearded chin resting between the top of her montrals. Anakin felt an unpleasant dip in his stomach at how easy they touched and drowned the feeling with more alcohol.

Soon grandmaster and Padawan were sound asleep. Anakin, fuzzy with drink and lightheaded with arousal, pressed himself against Obi-Wan’s other side and attempted to join them.

He awoke in the middle of the night to find himself half draped over the other man, one leg thrown over Obi-Wan’s own, his cock full and aching where it was pressed against his Master’s thigh. He had been lazily grinding against Obi-Wan, face pressed in the hollow of his Master’s throat.

He stilled instantly but Ahsoka and Obi-Wan were still asleep.

Horror and shame burned through him. Scrambling back, he saw Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttering, as if they would open, heard him release a quiet moan at the loss of Anakin’s heat. And he fled, stumbling back to his own quarters and straight into the shower, shedding clothing as he went.

The water came out warm, as warm as Obi-Wan’s arm around him had been, as warm as his presence in the Force. Anakin braced his mechno hand against the wall, eyes closing, and he just couldn’t help himself.

He reached down and cupped his balls, ran his fingers along the length of his swollen prick, before gripping it tightly.

He tried to think of Padmé as he began to work his hand back and forth, tried to recall the planes of her lovely face, but all he could see was Obi-Wan, head thrown back in ecstasy like his fantasy, hair and clothes in refined disarray as he sat next to Anakin – _you have no idea what you do to me, dear one_ – the ragged moan he’d given as Anakin pulled away…

…and Oh, Kriff he was coming. He was coming. Thank Force.

His orgasm exploded through him, leaving him shaky and dizzy, the memory of Obi-Wan’s voice echoing in his mind. He stumbled to his own bed, throwing himself into the messy sheets, and landed on clothes which still smelled of Obi-Wan.

His half-full cock twitched in interest and Anakin moaned as desire pooled low in his gut once more, his cock rising sluggishly to attention.

He needed to stop drinking. It was like his teenage years all over again.

He rolled over onto his stomach, and then rolled onto his back again as the friction of cool, slightly-stiff sheets against his throbbing cock made him want to hump the bed until he made a sticky mess of everything.

He stared defiantly up at the dark ceiling. He wasn’t going to give into this. Anakin tried to will his erection away, but the memory of his Master was too fresh, and it had been too long since he had…

His prick gave a vicious pulse, blood rushing south from Anakin’s head. Force, he was rock hard…

His hand drifted down, skating over his abdomen, and he grasped himself once more.

_…Obi-Wan’s wet lips swallowing Anakin’s cock entirely, sucking him down, that clever tongue swirling around the head as he looked up, those intense blue-grey eyes fixed only on Anakin’s face…_

And if Anakin brought himself off again, well, no one would ever know except him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just always view Anakin as very tactile and…physical? And the fact that he ends up as Darth Vader, in a suit and unable to feel anything, for 20 years just makes me always want to write him as touch-starved and…. horny? And Obi-Wan always did know how to get under his skin. I deeply apologize (and feel the need to justify the R rating of this chapter lol). 
> 
> On a different note, the fact that Obi-Wan has a lovely tenor voice is basically because Ewan McGregor has a lovely tenor voice (yes, I’ve re-watched Moulin Rouge recently!).


	12. how many times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The costs of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all of your wonderful comments and kudos. I do read and treasure every one of them, and love when you share your own thoughts on the characters.

It happened between one heartbeat and the next.

Obi-Wan felt a brief premonition from the Force, a twinge along a too-tight string, an icy sense of unease crawling up his spine.

The world around him slowed.

Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin, Ahsoka beside him atop a Separatist tank, as they systematically took it apart, lightsabers dancing. Met those blue eyes, now widening in alarm.

“Obi-Wan,” he cried, throwing out his arm and sending Ahsoka hurtling through the air, away from him.

Obi-Wan instantly reached out and grabbed the girl in the Force, cushioning her fall, and then watched in horror as the tank exploded.

There was a flare of white light, imprinted against the back of his eyelids even as he closed them tight to prevent cornea damage.

And then the noise. The secondary concussive blast.

Obi-Wan saw darkness.

When he pried apart grit-filled eyelashes, it was to find the sky above him. His ears were ringing. Every muscle in his body hurt and his leg had been twisted badly under him as he’d been blown back from the tank.

Spots danced across his vision as he rolled himself onto his stomach and then ruthlessly hauled himself to his feet. His leg gave out under him and he fell back to the ground with a cry, but in the next instant he was up again, using the Force to numb the pain, to lend him strength he could ill afford to spare.

The cost on his body would be high later, but for now Obi-Wan ignored the firefight going on around him, ignored the cloying humidity and dark sky and the blood he could feel dripping down from a cut on his head. He ignored Ahsoka’s shouts for Kix and a med evac team.

All that mattered, right now, was Anakin.

The other man had been blown several yards away from the smoldering wreckage of the tank. His impressive, intuitive command of the Force had managed to protect him enough that he hadn’t been incinerated on the spot.

But he was crumpled in a heap, unmoving, plainly burned, and as Obi-Wan dropped to his knees in the mud beside him, the Jedi Master was unsure whether his former Padawan was alive or dead.

The damp, raw rain, which had drizzled intermittently throughout the entire day, began again.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan cried, his mud and blood-spattered hands shaking as he rolled the young man over and felt frantically for a pulse.

For a moment Obi-Wan thought his own heart stopped as well.

There, _there_!

A pain, like he had been stabbed between the ribs, seared through him, even as Obi-Wan hauled Anakin into his arms. Cold rain dripped down upon them, spattering Anakin’s face with droplets no matter how many times Obi-Wan brushed them away. The rain mingled with the few tears Obi-Wan couldn’t manage to prevent.

 _Oh Force_ , he thought, _how many times must I go through this? How many times must I believe I’ve lost him?_

“Come back to me, Anakin,” he begged, wrapping Anakin’s dim Force presence securely with his own, flooding that cold presence with warmth.

“Come back.”

Anakin stirred in his arms, groaning faintly in pain, before opening his eyes and trying to focus on Obi-Wan’s face.

“Master.” His voice was a hoarse croak. He swallowed painfully, tried to lick dry lips, and whispered, “What happened?”

Obi-Wan’s smile was quite involuntary. Sighing in relief, he bent forward and lightly rested his forehead against Anakin’s.

“There was an explosion.”

Anakin sighed in resignation. “And I was reckless again.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, a brief, surprising sound of mirth escaping him. “No, dear one. You were selfless,” he corrected, proud and sorrowful at the same time.

Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s shock, his dawning pleasure, through their bond and realized he’d said the endearment out loud. Embarrassed, he tried to draw back, feeling his face flush under the mud and blood and sweat, but Anakin’s fingers, entangled in his hair, wouldn’t let him.

“My poor Master,” Anakin murmured, blue eyes bright with something Obi-Wan couldn’t name, as his other hand came up and brushed tantalizing fingers over Obi-Wan’s lips. “Cursed with such a troublesome Padawan.”

Obi-Wan shivered at Anakin’s deep, teasing tone.

His breath came out in a rush. His heart was pounding too fast and he opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was cut short by Ahsoka dropping to her knees in the mud beside them. “No time for that now, Masters,” she said briskly, laying a hand on both of them.

Obi-Wan felt her bright Force presence lending him strength, felt his head and vision clear a bit, felt that numbness – where all he had felt was Anakin – start to recede and his body start to ache once more.

“Fives! Gregor!” Ahsoka shouted. “Can you help us with the Generals?”

Kix and Trapper were already beside them. “Severe blood loss, third-degree burns, and a concussion. General Kenobi’s got multiple fractures in the right leg…”

Obi-Wan's fingers continued to stroke soothingly across Anakin’s skin, their eyes locked, even as the Jedi Master slowly leaned against Ahsoka and the world went dark once more.

His last thought was one of relief.

_Anakin would make it. Ahsoka was alright. They had survived one more day…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan was just as afraid of getting to the end of the war without Anakin, as Anakin was of losing Obi-Wan. Slight angst. Now back to fluff and Obi-Wan unknowingly driving Anakin crazy by being a total flirt. Stay tuned.


	13. Obi-Wan Flirts with Everyone (except Anakin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They had a job to do and Obi-Wan was exchanging quips with the enemy like he wanted to…to…take her out for a drink or something!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Asajj Ventress finally enters the story.

“You’ve certainly improved, my darling,” Obi-Wan commented with unconcealed admiration, as he exchanged a series of rapid-fire strikes and parries with Dooku’s assassin.

Asajj Ventress snarled at him and attempted to take his head off with a backhanded sweep of her lightsaber.

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow and smiled his most charming smile. “Most impressive.”

Anakin, taking the stairs of the hive-like structure on Cato Neimoidia three at a time to reach his master, growled low in his throat at Obi-Wans flirtatious tone and tried to pretend that he hadn’t. But really? Must Obi-Wan flirt with that hairless harpy? It was Ahsoka’s old nickname for Ventress, but Anakin quite liked it.

They had a job to do and Obi-Wan was exchanging quips with the enemy like he wanted to…to…take her out for a drink or something.

Anakin reached the top of the stairs just as the last rays of the evening sun disappeared over the horizon. Darkness fell around the three combatants and with it Ventress moved, the glowing red of her lightsabers streaking out behind her as she charged the Jedi Master.

Obi-Wan stood his ground, his blue blade fanning out into a defensive arc.

Anakin had a thumb on his own lightsaber, ready to join the fray when he felt a faint whisper from the Force. Instantly he was running forward, lightsaber igniting in a snap-hiss.

He yelled, “Master, down!” But even before he’d uttered the last word, Obi-Wan was ducking low, avoiding Ventress’ blades as Anakin’s lightsaber cleaved the air right where his head had been…

…and blocking a blaster bolt from a sniper rifle shot but an unknown opponent.

His Master rolled, striking upwards with his thrumming blue blade, to block Ventress’ slash at Anakin’s unprotected flank, even as the Jedi Knight blocked several more high-powered bolts from the assassin hidden in the shadows.

Then Obi-Wan was back on his feet, warm back pressed against Anakin’s own as they maintained defensive positions.

“You almost took my head off,” Obi-Wan commented reprovingly, as they spun so that Anakin now faced Ventress and Obi-Wan blocked the continuous stream of blaster bolts, his blade a blur of azure light.

Sorry, Master,” Anakin said, unrepentantly, grunting as he held off Ventress’ sneaky underhanded move where she attempted to skewer his liver. He threw out a hand and shoved her backwards with the Force. “But my lightsaber needed to go where your head was!”

“Couldn’t handle me, my dear Obi-Wan,” Ventress called, interrupting them and in a sing-song voice which set Anakin’s teeth on edge. She hauled herself to her feet and shot Anakin an unimpressed look. “Your boy is even less of a challenge than you are,” she taunted.

Obi-Wan directed a blaster bolt back to its source and there was a yelp from the darkness. He turned to cock an eyebrow at Dooku’s apprentice. “Flattery? From you, Ventress? I’m honored,” he teased, lips quirking upwards, before his gaze passed over Anakin’s glowering face.

“And you, Anakin, I’m glad your lightsaber _needed_ to go where my head was, instead of _wanted_ to go there.”

Anakin felt a swell of annoyance and a faint prickle of something that twisted his gut and which he refused to name. He readjusted his grip on his lightsaber and dove once more at that interfering, overly-familiar, Sith-trained menace. “Don’t count on it,” he snapped at his master.

Obi-Wan just arched an infuriating eyebrow at him, before he turned back to the darkness from where the assassin had stopped firing at them. “Are you injured, Aurra?” he called out.

Aurra Sing, gaze furious and sullen, limped out with one arm held stiffly by her side and her other arm held steady with her blaster pointed unwaveringly at Obi-Wan. “You missed, Jedi,” she spat.

Obi-Wan’s smile was genuine. “On the contrary, my dear,” he said gently. “I’m happy to see you alive and on your feet.”

Anakin growled – _now Obi-Wan was flirting with both of their enemies_ – and Ventress laughed. “Oh, Master Kenobi, and here I thought you cared about me!” she called, in such a mocking tone, and with such a triumphant look at Anakin, that Anakin gave up on his lightsaber completely and attempted to tackle her.

Ventress’ infernal flirting was cut off in a yelp as they went head over heels, her lightsabers flying from her grip. She kicked him off her and they both jumped back to their feet, crouched low, reassessing one another without their usual weapons at hand.

Ventress smirked, gaze knowing, and Anakin glared.

“Does the little Jedi have a crush on his – ”

There was the sound of a blaster discharging. Anakin turned, eyes wide, a second too slow…

…and then Obi-Wan was there, blue blade blazing at Anakin’s back and deflecting the shot from Aurra Sing. He Force-pulled Anakin’s lightsaber to him and tossed it over to Anakin, even as he began blocking th assassin's shots once more. The grin the two Jedi shared then was fierce and excited as the Force pulsed between them. Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, Obi-Wan looked happy. He shot an expectant look at Anakin, who nodded, and then as one they moved on the attack.

Sing and Ventress were soon in full-retreat but Obi-Wan’s hand on Anakin’s arm stopped the younger man from pursuing. “Another time, I think,” the Jedi Master said, head cocked to where Ahsoka and the 212th were still engaged in a heavy fight with Separatist forces below their position.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin muttered, trying to relax tense muscles, but Obi-Wan didn’t release his arm. Anakin looked up at him to find faintly puzzled blue-grey eyes studying him carefully.

Obi-Wan frowned. “Anakin,” he began, and then he stopped, looking unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say.

At another time, Anakin might have been amused to see the famed Negotiator lost for words. Now he shook his head and said, simply, “Master, I don’t like you flirting with…”

_Anyone else_ , he thought.

“…them,” he ended, lamely.

Obi-Wan frowned. “You know it is just a diversionary technique to catch them off balance. Why does this upset you so?” He sounded genuinely confused, as if he really couldn’t understand why Anakin would be…

Anakin took a sharp step forward, watched his Master tense, saw Obi-Wan’s eyes drop, involuntarily, down to his lips before he jerked them back up to meet Anakin’s gaze.

Anakin wanted to reach out and run his hands up Obi-Wan’s arms, clasp one behind his Master’s neck, and drag him forward until their foreheads touched. He wanted to feel his Master’s breath on his lips, watch his eyelashes flutter closed, feel that breath stutter. He wanted to cross that last little distance between them and press his lips gently to Obi-Wan’s, wanted to hear his Master gasp in surprise and then fail to hide a moan as Anakin kissed him deeply, pulling their bodies flush together.

He wanted Obi-Wan to see only him, no matter how many other people surrounded them.

Anakin blinked, and Obi-Wan’s face swam back into view. He had raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint spot of color high on each cheek and his eyes were deepest blue-green. Anakin licked his slightly-parted lips and firmly crossed his own arms over his chest in order to firmly remove all temptation.

If he touched Obi-Wan now…

He couldn’t help but step forward though, until he was a hairsbreadth from his Master. Obi-Wan didn’t look away from him. “I just don’t like it,” he said, voice hoarse and low, his breath ghosting over his Master’s lips.

Obi-Wan shivered, his eyes falling to Anakin’s lips once more, and Anakin couldn’t help the thrill of triumph which coursed through him even as his own heart skipped a beat.

Firmly, he pulled himself away, knowing deep down that even if he kissed Obi-Wan, even if Obi-Wan _wanted_ Anakin to kiss him, his Master would pull away.

Obi-Wan would be consumed by guilt, would feel that he had betrayed his vows to the Order, and would distance himself from Anakin.

And Anakin couldn’t handle that.

He took a deep breath. “Come, Master,” he said, clipping his lightsaber once more to his belt. “Let’s see how Ahsoka and Cody are getting on.”

Obi-Wan took a shaky breath and followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me such difficulty. Sorry for the wait. And I shamelessly took Obi-Wan and Anakin’s dialogue from James Luceno’s “Labyrinth of Evil”. I started that book and I just started laughing at how perfect the banter between them was. I thought to myself, “Now, kiss,” and this chapter was born. 
> 
> And yes, Asajj Ventress figured out Anakin’s jealousy and finds it amusing, unwillingly endearing, and is using it against him as any good Sith-adept would. 
> 
> Do you guys remember that part in “The Clone Wars” where Obi-Wan and Anakin are fighting Ventress just as Dooku tries to have her assassinated? Obi-Wan is like “Ventress, you’re not looking well,” and Anakin immediately says to Obi-Wan, “She never does,” like he wanted Obi-Wan to remember this and stop flirting with the enemy? I always found that moment hilarious.


	14. The Truth about Padmé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Besides, Anakin was…his. ‘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan discovers that he can get jealous, Anakin has once more disregarded the Jedi Code and Palpatine enters the story, but only obliquely and for about two seconds.

It was the period right after a battle which Obi-Wan found hardest to bear.

Although battles were brutal, violent, senseless fulcrums of chaos and destruction, and Obi-Wan would never wish for them – that wasn’t the Jedi way – there was no denying that they were when he felt most alive.

It was in the dance of their lightsabers, the unspoken need to protect one another, and from a familiarity born of a hundred missions a thousand times saving each other, that Anakin and Obi-Wan jointed together within the Force.

Indeed, during these moments they became intertwined so closely that Obi-Wan could never tell exactly where he ended, and Anakin began. He could feel Anakin in his entire being, a constant reminder that he was not alone, and the amount of raw, untamed power that flowed through Obi-Wan was sweet, heady and almost too much to bear.

He was faster, stronger, his strikes utterly precise in a way that he was no where else.

He knew exactly where Anakin was at all times – his right arm, his other half.

He knew of no other Jedi who melded together so closely, not even Jedi Masters Tiplar and Tiplee, who were twins and led their clone troopers together.

Nothing within the Jedi Archives or in his many travels spoke of a bond quite like his and Anakin’s. Obi-Wan had once tried to broach the subject with Master Yoda – How is this possible? What are we even doing? – but the tiny and ancient Jedi Master had grown so alarmed, so intense, that Obi-Wan had quickly denied everything and made his excuses to escape.

It’s not that Obi-Wan feared they were doing anything wrong, precisely, it was that he dreaded it was something uniquely Anakin, which would cause only more wary and speculative looks directed at his former padawan.

Anakin had too much of a burden placed on his shoulders already and if this…synchronicity between them during battle was something Obi-Wan could figure out and control without the input of the rest of the Council, then he would.

But it was the post-Battle fatigue which was hardest to bear. All that power, Anakin’s vibrant presence, the brilliance of his love for Obi-Wan singing between them, that would all leave the Jedi Master in one, violent rush as soon as one or the other of them pulled their presence back. More often than not, lately, that was Obi-Wan. He was concerned over his growing addiction to this bond of theirs and he had noticed that as the war wound ever on and on, the withdrawal periods – those dull, aching hours after they had intertwined and then separated again – were growing longer and longer.

Obi-Wan tiredly moved back across the ship towards their joint room on the _Negotiator_. Ever since the Rako Hardeen incident, Maul’s return and then Satine’s death, Anakin had been…clingy. Slightly on edge.

Perhaps that was unkind. The war – which had originally seemed so straightforward and quickly won – had become a complicated maze of ever-shifting alliances, secrets, lies, uncertainty, and a place where you could trust no one. It was no wonder that Anakin sought reassurance from the one person who had been there for most of his life; his former master.

Obi-Wan slapped the release for the door, which opened with a hiss, and then leaned against it his exhausted legs giving out.

The room was a complete mess – courtesy of Anakin’s approach to house cleaning – with clothing and droid parts covering the entirety of the miniscule space, including the single bed. Two beds wouldn’t have fit in the room, but it hadn’t turned out to be the problem Obi-Wan had first assumed it would become. He and Anakin rarely found time for some shut-eye on the same schedule, so the bed was often only occupied by one of them at a time.

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief; not it was his turn.

There was a flashing blue light blinking from his comlink, thrown onto the unmade bed.

With a groan, Obi-Wan slowly moved over and sat on the edge of the mattress, reaching to flick the device on.

Padmé’s serene and lovely form rose up, six inches high and all in blue. A recording. Obi-Wan’s eyebrow rose as she shot him a mischievous smile.

_Why would Senator Amidala…_

“Annie,” she said, voice low and husky.

Obi-Wan’s other eyebrow rose.

“I can’t wait for you to come home. I miss you terribly,” the Senator continued, her smile definitely promising things. “When you get here –” her hand skated to the top of her ornate robes “– we’ll have time to –”

Obi-Wan hastily shut the device off.

For a moment he just sat there, stunned. He was unsure of what he was feeling. He had known there was a flirtation between Anakin and the former Naboo queen, but he had thought – _hoped_ – that was all it was.

Anakin was a Jedi: he had sworn an _oath_ to the Order the day he attained knighthood.

If he could no longer keep that oath, he was free to leave, but he was still here so why…

Obi-Wan tried to take a slow, calming breath.

Besides, Anakin was…his.

Obi-Wan immediately tried to push that thought away. People belonged to themselves alone. Anakin was his friend, his partner, his brother. Besides, apparently Anakin and Senator Amidala… _Padmé_ …were…

The door hissed open and Obi-Wan found himself on his feet before he even knew what he was going to do.

Anakin took one look at Obi-Wan’s face and the bright, expectant smile dropped from his lips. His eyes looked confused as he glanced at the comlink Obi-Wan thrust at him.

“Master?”

“There’s a message on there for you,” Obi-Wan said shortly.

Anakin took the comlink but didn’t turn it on. He studied Obi-Wan carefully, his eyes going wider and wider as he obviously realized what his former master had seen and heard.

Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s adam apple bob as he swallowed convulsively. He wondered what his former padawan would do if Obi-Wan pressed his lips to Anakin’s hammering pulse point.

“Master,” he began, hands raised and tone placating. “Master, please.” He stepped towards Obi-Wan, who took a smart step backwards, hands firmly crossed over his chest.

“I have had no cause to be disappointed in your conduct as a Jedi Knight,” Obi-Wan said, cold and stern, every inch a Jedi Master. “Until now.”

Anakin reared back as though struck.

“I expected something like this from Quinlan Vos, but not from you.”

Anger danced across Anakin’s face and through his blue eyes.

“Now, wait a minute, that’s not fair! Padmé and I are –”

Anakin abruptly slammed his mouth shut.

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow. “Are what?” he inquired frostily.

“Together,” Anakin muttered, dropping his eyes, seeming to find the ground and Obi-Wan’s boots fascinating.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his Coruscanti accent more pronounced than ever. “I gathered that much.” Suddenly he just felt tired; tired of it all. His shoulders drooped, and he sighed. “Anakin, you are a Jedi Knight. You made a commitment to the Jedi Order –” Anakin’s head shot up and he opened his mouth indignantly but Obi-Wan rode right over him – “and swore an oath knowing _full-well_ what it entailed.”

Anakin’s face took on the stubborn cast that Obi-Wan remembered and deplored from his teenage years. “Well, I refuse to give up Padmé, Master, and I refuse to give up _you_.”

_And there_ , Obi-Wan thought tiredly, _was the crux of the issue_.

Anakin reached out a hand towards him and Obi-Wan jerked backwards, giving up on sleep for the foreseeable future and heading for the door. “Well, you can’t have both of us,” Obi-Wan snapped waspishly, illogically, “and you certainly don’t have me.”

Anakin’s indrawn breath was all the warning he got. The next second he found himself pulled around and shoved backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and he fell down onto it, Anakin above him, knees on either side of Obi-Wan’s hips and a strangely intent look on his face.

“Are you jealous, Obi-Wan?” He sounded triumphant at the possibility.

Anakin’s hands rose, seemingly of their own volition, from his grip on Obi-Wan’s shoulders to skate hesitant fingers along his Master’s smooth cheeks, across his lips, over the soft skin of his eyelids – closed as Obi-Wan unwillingly shivered at the contact – and down the sides of his neck.

“I won’t give you up, Master,” Anakin declared passionately, stroking his skin, pressing his hips down upon Obi-Wan’s and rolling them forwards – apparently unintentionally – as he attempted to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. Their bond, still unquiet from their intimate contact during the battle, burst open once more; intense, all-consuming and overwhelming.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, a fist of desire uncurling in his stomach so violently that he bit his lip to keep from moaning. He felt his face flush.

“You need me, Master,” Anakin continued, voice low and possessive. “You must know I would do anything for you.”

It was the second of uncertainty in his voice, the doubt that Obi-Wan didn’t know that, which allowed the Jedi Master to regain control of himself. His shields slammed up. He pushed Anakin off him

He stood and straightened his robes before turning to face Anakin. “One day, whether you want it or not, my former padawan, you will be forced to make a choice.”

The silence pressed down upon them. Obi-Wan ruthlessly suppressed the pang of hurt which rose up in him as he realized what Anakin’s choice would be: _who_ his choice would be. This wasn’t a competition. He was grateful for the time he had with Anakin and if their paths diverged…he would accept it.

Anakin’s comlink beeped and Rex’s voice emerged. “General Skywalker? The Chancellor wishes you to contact him.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed. “We will call him together,” he told Rex. He had a bad feeling about Anakin’s close friendship with Palpatine. Especially lately.

Anakin’s rapid mood had passed like a summer storm. “Always on the move, right Master?” he announced with remarkable sangfroid. And he was off the bed and out the door.

“Anakin! We will talk about this later!” Obi-Wan said, uselessly he knew, because Anakin, in a bid to forget this conversation had ever happened, disappeared down the hallway.

Obi-Wan sighed and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve started reading Hypersynchrony, by Mosmord, which completely influenced this chapter. I’m only a couple chapters in, but I’m loving it. Also, obviously, Anakin didn’t tell Obi-Wan the complete truth about his and Padmé’s relationship. I tried to make Obi-Wan more accepting of Anakin’s utter disregard for the Jedi’s rules, but then I realized Anakin was the one person he would be jealous about, and Obi-Wan was always a stickler for following the rules because he believed rules were there for a reason.


	15. Unseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Anakin’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure his Master could hear it. He found himself achingly hard before he finished looking down the smooth, hard planes of Obi-Wan’s body.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin stumbles upon Obi-Wan doing something unexpected, but not unwelcome. 
> 
> Explicit Sexual Content and Mildly Dubious Consent. Also, dysfunctional relationships. Ye have been warned.

Anakin let himself into his and Obi-Wan’s rooms with a quiet sigh of relief. He had been worried he’d run into someone who wanted something from him as he dashed through the Temple. His relief quickly ended though when, as soon as he entered the main sitting room, he tripped over something in the dark.

Cursing under his breath, Anakin hopped around on one foot and wondered why it was so bleeding dark in there. He reached out and was just about to wave the lights on when he felt a faint ripple in the Force.

Anakin froze. He had dampened his Force presence as he discretely crept through the Temple so that none of the other Jedi would sense him easily. He hadn’t wanted to come at all – had wanted to go straight to Padmé’s apartment and lose himself in her after his latest mission – but his lightsaber had been acting funny and he needed that extra stabilizer he’d left lying around here.

He had thought Obi-Wan was still off at the Front.

As that awareness that familiar presence, brushed over him again – still utterly unaware of his presence – Anakin thought, _Apparently not_.

Anakin decided to simply call the stabilizer to him with the Force and leave before his former Master sensed him, but then Obi-Wan’s presence rolled over him again and he frowned as he realized there was something unusual about it.

Obi-Wan’s shield were completely gone, or perhaps just lowered so much that they were nearly non-existent.

His master seemed…not asleep but…abstracted…

A frisson of heat trickled down Anakin’s spine, an echo from Obi-Wan as his hands leisurely wandered along pale, bare…skin.

Anakin had moved silently down the darkened hallway before his brain even caught up with him. Toeing his boots, off, he slowly inched down the last few feet until he hovered just out of sight of Obi-Wan’s open door.

Stretching out all of his awareness into the Force and dipping as deep into their bond as he could go without Obi-Wan noticing him, Anakin cautiously edged around the doorframe until he could see into his Master’s sleeping chamber.

Obi-Wan was spread, naked and glorious, atop his bedsheets, hair mussed, eyes closed and lips parted blissfully, as his hips undulated lazily and he thrust his half-hard prick into his own fist.

After several such slow, indolent movements, Obi-Wan sighed and released his cock, which was now pleasantly plump and swollen. Hips sinking back to the bed, he softly began skating calloused fingers over his abdomen and stomach, rising to brush tantalizingly over his nipples every so often, which caused them to harden and pebble even as Anakin watched.

Anakin’s throat went dry and his heart pounded so loudly he was sure his Master could hear it. He found himself achingly hard before he finished looking down the smooth, hard planes of Obi-Wan’s body.

Obi-Wan was gorgeous, body loose and relaxed, broad-shouldered with slim hips, and hard and firm everywhere Anakin wanted him to be. His Master kept his eyes closed even as his hands began wandering down towards his steadily hardening cock. Whatever he was imagining must have been good because ripples of desire ran through him like the waves of a restless sea, tingling across Anakin’s spine and pooling in his groin.

Obi-Wan raised a hand, licked saliva over a finger, and then swiped that wet finger over the tip of his cock and rubbing across the slit. Anakin watched Obi-Wan’s shaft swell, jutting probably from his curls and quivering from the cool wetness Obi-Wan had swiped over it.

Obi-Wan’s lips parted in a silent sigh and Anakin couldn’t stop himself any longer.

Reaching out into the Force he gave his Master a sense impression of Anakin’s own lips closing over that hard shaft – warm and wet encasing Obi-Wan’s hard, pulsing heat. Anakin took as much of him in his mouth as he could, swirling his tongue around an imagined shaft, up over the tip, laving saliva over the slit, until his lips popped off with a rather filthy squelch.

Anakin only imagined Obi-Wan’s taste, but his Master obviously felt Anakin’s Force impression. Obi-Wan moaned, low and shocked, hips thrusting helplessly upwards even as his head felt back against the pillow, fully exposing the smooth lines of his throat.

Anakin could feel the other man’s arousal burning through them both as Obi-Wan wrapped long, elegant fingers tightly around his leaking cock and began jerking himself off in earnest.

Anakin’s trousers were tight, constricting his own fully-erect member and all he wanted to do was cross that room and attach his lips to the straining muscles in Obi-Wan’s throat; like a mynock to a ship’s hull. He wanted to suck and lick his way up that throat until he reached the curve of his jaw and he pulled Obi-Wan hard against him, claiming his lips in a bruising kiss as his own fingers wrapped around Obi-Wan’s straining erection, stroking him together as fiery heat overtook them both.

A white-hot jolt of arousal shot through him as his head spun and his cock spurted a thin stream of cum. Anakin tasted blood as he bit his own tongue to keep from making a sound.

Obi-Wan, still so open in the Force, felt it as well. He moaned, a broken, wet sound, as his hips stuttered, and he almost came right there.

The sound of that moan had Anakin’s flesh hand diving past the waistband of his pants to begin pulling on his own cock, his harsh breathing perfectly in sync with Obi-Wan’s own as that echoing, shared pleasure filled them both.

“Ana – Anakin!” Obi-Wan gasped reverently, like a prayer.

Anakin’s eyes, which were fixed rapturously on his Master’s sweat-glistened, shaking form, widened and another intense swirl of desire pulsed through him so viciously that he was coming right then, right there… _Oh, Force it felt so good._

He ruthlessly gripped the base of his cock, seeing stars even as his burning desire raced through Obi-Wan as well. Anakin desperately sucked in air in an attempt to clear his head a bit. Obi-Wan was so close, he just needed a little push.

_‘Come for me Master,’_ Anakin sent through their bond, his voice low and commanding where in reality it would have been cracked and broken from want.

Obi-Wan fell apart before his eyes, crying out softly as his orgasm rippled through him, white-hot in the Force. As he sunk back into the sheets, satiated, a small, contented smile graced his lips. His eyes fluttered, and the younger man could feel him slip into a lethargic doze.

Anakin stumbled backwards, away from the doorway and out of the apartment, forgetting his boots, forgetting everything. His cock throbbed and his head was hazy; filled with the sight of Obi-Wan pleasuring himself…calling for Anakin in his elegant voice, rough with desire…touching himself…helpless against the sound of Anakin’s voice…

Anakin wasn’t going to make it.

Lurching into the first set of unused rooms along the hallway, Anakin ripped his pants off as soon as the door hissed shut and he was in darkness, grabbing his heavy cock, already slick with his own spend, and pumping it once, twice –

_…Anakin…_

And he was coming, Obi-Wan’s name on his lips and pleasure cresting over him like a tidal wave. _Oh, Force it was so good._

He still thrummed desperately with arousal and was half-erect when he made it to Padmé’s. At her welcoming smile he grabbed for her, body tight as a wire and aching, before he fucked her so hard they both saw stars. And then he had her take him as deep as she could, riding him thoroughly, slow and controlled, so that by the time his orgasm hit him he was completely wiped out, unable to so much as lift his head to brush her curly hair out of his face.  

Dazed and exhausted, Anakin sprawled across Padmé’s luxurious bed, trying to control his breathing and distantly wondering if Obi-Wan was still sleeping.

Her fingers played over his flushed skin, leg brushing his over-stimulated cock uncomfortably. “Wow,” she said quietly. “What were you thinking about just now?”

A small frisson of desire shot through him once more at the memory of his prim and proper Master looking utterly debauched and completely wrecked in a tangle of bedsheets.

But of course, Anakin could not tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of smut on this last day in May. Blame Anakin. Although Obi-Wan started it. 
> 
> My headcanon is that this was the night they conceived Luke and Leia. I’m sorry Anakin is treating Padmé unfairly in this chapter, and I dithered on whether to add that last scene. Also, note that Anakin did not feel bad about thinking of Obi-Wan while he was with his wife, unlike in previous instances. 
> 
> Meta: I always felt like Anakin never saw Padmé as a real person. She was an ideal of family and unconditional love, encouraged in him by Palpatine. He’d only known her a couple of days before he married her. He put her on a plinth as this beautiful, distant queen, who was 'his' in a way that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka could never be (as they were sworn to the Order). I always felt like Anakin wanted to possess her more than he loved her.


	16. Just Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Anakin had been missing for three weeks, two days and fourteen hours.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan tries to hold everything together while maintaining some boundaries at the same time.

Anakin had been missing for three weeks, two days and fourteen hours.

For that entire time, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he even slept whenever he did try to rest, he invariably found Ahsoka curling up next to him, small and compact, like a loth-cat under siege. She stayed close to him during the day too, silent and wide-eyed, and only rested when he did, as though afraid to let him out of her sight. As though he’d vanish just like her master had.

Obi-Wan tried to pretend to sleep more often for her sake.

The only thing which kept Obi-Wan somewhat functional during these long weeks was the fact that he _knew_ Anakin was still alive – their bond remained unbroken; distant, erratic and extremely faint, but there.

He clung to it like a lifeline, trying to pinpoint its location but as always it remained elusive.

_He was lost somewhere in the Thrugii Asteroid Belt….no communication after his com was destroyed…unable to pinpoint last know trajectory…little hope he’s lasted this long…_

Artoo beeped disconsolately from his corner of Obi-Wan’s room. The Jedi Master reached over and placed a hand on the little droid’s dome. Artoo whistled something slightly more hopeful.

 With a faint grimace, he stopped reaching for his and Anakin’s bond and instead looked over at the other bunk in his cabin – usually Anakin’s – now empty except for Ahsoka, curled up in a ball on top of the blanket. She was so mature, so capable that sometimes Obi-Wan almost forgot she was only seventeen standard years old. She had grown so much in the almost-three years she had been their – _Anakin’s_ padawan.

Obi-Wan got up and moved over to the other bunk, knelt down and gently placed a comforting hand on Ahsoka’s head as well, between her montrals.

Her eyes opened and she looked up at him tiredly. “Hey master,” she said, lips curving up in an approximation of a smile. “Any news?”

Obi-Wan tried to project calm certainty. “Not yet, little one, but there will be.”

The sublight engines slowed and then stopped as the _Resolute_ pulled into orbit around Ryloth. Obi-Wan’s com pinged to life and Captain Rex’s helmeted-face and jaig eyes swam into view.

“General Kenobi,” he began formally. “Commander.” Obi-Wan was on loan to the 501st until Anakin…came back.

What was that blasted man doing?!

“We have arrived at the rendezvous point. General Plo Koon and the Wolf Pack are standing by and awaiting orders, sir, and Cham Syndulla is waiting for you on the ground.” Rex shifted, if possible, into more precise military attention. From what Obi-Wan could gather through his armor, the clone captain looked eager. “There’s also a high-priority message for you and Commander Tano from the Jedi Temple, General.”

Ahsoka sucked in a breath of air and Obi-Wan felt his own heart pounding.

“We will be there soon, Rex. Thank you.” He cut the communication and then he and Ahsoka dove for the door.

“Alive and in the Halls of Healing he is,” Master Yoda confirmed, when they played the Temple’s recording back – clones not-at-all-discretely lingering behind the two Jedi as they shamelessly listened in – and “waiting for you when you both return from your mission, he will be.”

Ahsoka groaned as Yoda faded from view. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said and Obi-Wan heartily agreed with her.

Nevertheless, he knew his duty. “We must focus on our mission,” he reminded her gently. “The sooner we complete it, the sooner we can get back to Coruscant to see what trouble Anakin has landed himself in this time.”

The girl-verging-on-young-woman shot him a wry look. “I could tell you the same thing, Master. I can feel your impatience and annoyance.” She blanched afterwards, as though afraid her words were not respectful enough.

Obi-Wan laughed ruefully. “Yes, it doesn’t really help, does it,” he agreed, and his grand-padawan shot him a grateful look.

______________________________

 

Anakin was still pale and worn-looking by the time Obi-Wan made it back to the Temple and was allowed in to see him.

Ahsoka had sat with her master for awhile before Obi-Wan arrived. The Jedi Master had sent her on ahead, as soon as they landed, while he made sure his men, and the 501st, were settled in and then made his report to the Council.

If they had to keep re-fighting old battles on planets they thought secure, this war would go on indefinitely.

It was with immeasurable relief that he entered the ward where Anakin was and felt that familiar riotous and vibrant presence in the Force reaching out towards him automatically. The Jedi Master dropped his shields and opened his end of their bond.

He strode down the shadowy aisles. Muted traffic lights and the distant sounds of air speeders filtered into the ward, but this only added to the quiet hum of peace and well-being which filled this place.

The tall, slender pillars, high-arching ceiling, and the many windows all gave the Halls an open, airy, and light feeling. Dim, golden balls of light were placed at even intervals along the pillars, giving enough light to see but not enough to disturb any convalescing Jedi Knights.

Obi-Wan had always hated the place, but he knew theoretically that it was the best place for an injured Jedi to get well again.

Anakin was about half-way down the ward, already asleep. Obi-Wan stopped for a moment, just observing, taking in his wan skin, the new lines at the corners f his eyes, the soft curls of his hair, which were getting longer and needed a cut…those full lips which parted as he sighed in his sleep and shifted a little, searching for someone…

Obi-Wan resolutely turned his thoughts away from that line of thought. He knew Padmé had been here several times before he and Ahsoka reached the capital. He was glad Anakin had had someone who loved him there for him when he needed it.

Jedi Master and Healer Vokara Che moved soundlessly to stand next to Obi-Wan. Her presence was slightly amused in the Force.

“He won’t break if you go and sit next to him,” she said, with an undertone of amused exasperation.

“I didn’t expect him to still look so bad,” Obi-Wan admitted and Master Che touched the back of his hand with her fingertips quickly, for comfort.

“It looks worse than it is,” she said, all business-like. “Mostly dehydration and nutrient-depletion. Minor sunstroke. A few minor abrasions and a twisted ankle. He just needed a few days to replenish his strength and sometimes the old-fashioned way of just sleep and good food is best. He’ll be back to his usual, terrifying and chaos-causing self in another day or so.”

“Good.”

Vokara Che had known Anakin and Obi-Wan for a long time. She still told anyone who would listen about the time when Anakin led a mass breakout of Padawans from the infirmary during the Great Bothan Flu Epidemic when he was twelve.

“I’m surprised you’re not in here as well, Master Kenobi. You two are usually so joined at the hip that you even get injured together.” She smirked.

Obi-Wan tried to look severe but he couldn’t deny the truth of her words, so he did what any respected Jedi General of the Republic would do and fled.

Settling beside Anakin in the chair placed next to his bed – made of some type of dark, Naboo wood – Obi-Wan took several deep, steadying breaths, finding his center and feeling the tension from the past few weeks finally leaving his body. He breathed slowly and reached out to his former padawan, his best friend, in the Force.

The lines on Anakin’s brows smoothed and his sleeping form shifted slightly in Obi-Wan’s direction.

Smiling, feeling fondness and grateful relief fill him, Obi-Wan reached out and placed his fingers on the bare skin of Anakin’s arm. He just need to feel the reality of the other man’s presence.

Obi-Wan wrapped his hand around Anakin’s wrist, sending calm and warmth – as much as he could manage anyway – to him through their bond. For awhile there was just Obi-Wan and Anakin, breathing together amid the quiet of the Halls of Healing.

Obi-Wan felt the exact moment Anakin woke up – that spark which was indisputably him growing in intensity like the twin suns of Tatooine bursting over the horizon – even before his former padawan smiled.

His eyes opened and fixed unerringly on Obi-Wan’s, blue on blue, and his smile grew wider, into that cocky curl of the lips which made Obi-Wan frown even as a faint flutter began in his stomach. He turned his hand over in Obi-Wan’s loosened grip, pulling until their hands met and he entwined their fingers together.

“Hey, Master,” the younger Jedi said nonchalantly, voice scratchy. “I’m back. Made some new friends.”

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow and hastily cleared his throat of the sudden lump there. “So I see. Recklessly ignoring orders, following a ship into uncharted space, and returning injured as usual.”

“Well you know me, Master. Hate to break a winning streak.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes even as he tried to suppress a smile. Anakin, who knew his every mood better than anyone else in the galaxy, grinned wider. Gently, Anakin tugged on his arm, asking the other Jedi to come closer.

Their eyes locked and Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat at the depth of feeling he could read in Anakin’s gaze; desperation and want and raw need filled the air between them.

_…relief…and home and…possession…_

_Mine._

Obi-Wan pulled back hastily, breaking the connection. The chair tumbled to the floor with a loud clatter. Embarrassed, Obi-Wan bent to pick it up, giving himself time to find composure.

Anakin needed boundaries, he needed guidance. He didn’t need…

_This wasn’t doing either of them any good._

“I should go,” he said quietly. Apologetically. Firmly.

Anakin’s eyes widened and his lips…well, if he was still a teenager, Obi-Wan would say he was pouting. “Please stay, Master,” he wheedled, biting his bottom lip.

Obi-Wan felt a faint flush on his cheeks, felt himself stir at the thought of taking that bottom lip between his own. He stepped back and shook his head. “You need rest, Anakin.” He sighed and turned away, shields back in place. “And so do I.”

“Obi-Wan!”

The Jedi Master stopped, unable to turn back towards his former padawan.

“Please…just stay.”

Anakin sounded so lost that Obi-Wan’s heart ached, and he felt cold in the Force. He made to turn around. He couldn’t leave him like this.

_…he wouldn’t always be here…Anakin needed to learn to stand on his own…he couldn’t keep doing this…Anakin was not his…_

The Jedi Master kept walking. _I’m sorry, dear one_ , Obi-Wan whispered through their bond, hoping and dreading that Anakin would hear and understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin runs into Thrawn in the Thrugii Asteroid Belt. I tried to find a way to fit it into this chapter but couldn’t do it without taking everyone away from Obi-Wan and Anakin. 
> 
> So, our boys have moved to deliberate flirting (on Anakin’s part) and almost-acknowledgement of their romantic tension. Progress?
> 
> Chapters 15, 16 and 17 are slightly dark and sad for a reason (to show Anakin’s journey and mounting issues) but we’ll get back to the fluff soon. Promise!


	17. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ahsoka turned and simply walked away from him.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka leaves the Jedi Order. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your comments. They make my day!

Ahsoka turned and simply walked away from him.

Anakin watched her – the defeated cast of her shoulders, the raw misery she projected in the Force – until she descended the steps of the Temple and vanished from his sight. Her shadow, dark against the fiery setting sun, and the tips of her montrals were the last part of her he saw.

For several quick, pained breaths he stood there unmoving.

He couldn’t believe…

And then he was running to the very edge of the steps, looking down and out frantically for his apprentice, ready to call her back, to demand that she stay with him. To beg her not to leave him.

But Ahsoka was gone.

Anakin’s outstretched hand dropped uselessly to his side and he fell heavily onto the top step, leg no longer supporting him as he stared sightlessly out over the heavily-secured route leading to the Jedi Temple. Out there the bustling, frothing mass of rush-hour Coruscanti traffic still seethed.

Everyone kept leaving him.

Ahsoka. His mom. His brothers-in-arms in the 501st, who were dying in droves. Other Jedi in this pointless, never-ending war. Obi-Wan kept putting distance between them; loyal to the Council and his inflexible ideals before he was loyal to Anakin.

Only Padmé would never leave him. Had married him in defiance of her own allegiance to the Republic.

And Palpatine, who was always a friend, and who knew all his fears, hidden darkness and secret dreams. Had been there when Obi-Wan let Anakin believe he was dead.

_Perhaps he should go talk to the Chancellor now?_

“Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s refined voice startled Anakin so much that he flinched. He almost snapped back for his former Master to go away but the usually smooth, elegant tones of that beloved voice were roughened with…concern?

Anakin’s shoulders relaxed by degree even if he didn’t turn around or otherwise acknowledge the other man’s presence.

Obi-Wan hesitated and then came to sit beside Anakin on the steps.

They didn’t touch, Obi-Wan didn’t even look at him, but Anakin could feel his Master’s concern and love envelop him like a warm blanket through their bond.

Anakin tried to breathe in Obi-Wan’s love, tried to imprint it on the very fabric of his mind for the next time that aching well of loneliness rose up in him again.

Obi-Wan was always warm in the Force.

The sun had set and the lights from Coruscant’s many buildings glowed blue and white and gold before Obi-Wan spoke.

“I’m sorry Anakin,” the Jedi Master said quietly.

Dispassionately, Anakin wondered if his Master, who always knew the right thing to do and say, had an answer for Ahsoka’s actions.

“She was so young. Thrown into a galaxy-wide war.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “And the Council –”

“Treated her abominably,” Anakin spat, apparently not so dispassionate after all as he felt raw fury rise within him. “They betrayed her!”

“War has a way of clouding even a Jedi’s judgements,” his Master said neutrally, diplomatically.

Anakin hated when Obi-Wan was so calm and rational about everything. For once he wanted Obi-Wan on his side! His fists clenched, and he could feel his former Master’s keen, incisive gaze upon him.

“Her choice had nothing to do with you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan continued, carefully.  

Anakin’s sharp bark of laughter wasn’t even really laughter at all, wrenched out of him at the bitter irony of it all. “Or course it did,” he said scornfully. “She left me. I wasn’t _enough_ for her to stay.”

 _I could never leave you_ , he didn’t say out loud.

“You could follow her,” Obi-Wan said. “Leave the Order and keep her safe.”

There was something, some emotion, in his Master’s voice which Anakin had never heard there before. Anakin mutely shook his head.

Obi-Wan reached out and placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “Sometimes we must walk our own paths, and sometimes the choices we face are not as simple as they appear from the outside.”

Anakin snorted, even as he turned to face Obi-Wan, his flesh hand rising to grasp the other man’s arm and hold him to him.

“And sometimes they are,” he returned, decidedly. “I asked her to stay but she chose her hurt and her pride instead.” His heart twinged and a small part of him wondered if he was being unfair to Ahsoka, even as Obi-Wan’s familiar eyebrow rose in disapproval. But that was how Anakin felt.

Obi-Wan didn’t tell him he was wrong to feel this way, or even scold him for voicing such thoughts out loud. Their bond sang softly, a reminder of their ties to one another. “And if there ever came a day when you had to choose between Padmé and I,” Obi-Wan enquired, soft as a whisper, “who would you choose?”

Anakin’s heart and durasteel hand both clenched.

“That day will never come,” he insisted, even as his heart pounded and Obi-Wan smiled a sad smile.

“Time has a way of making old fools of us all,” Obi-Wan observed.

Anakin knew what Obi-Wan himself would tell him; remembered when the Father on Mortis had made him choose between Obi-Wan’s life or Ahsoka’s.

 _Save Ahsoka_ , Obi-Wan had ordered but Anakin had taken a third option.

Obi-Wan would expect him to save Padmé. Anakin knew this in his bones and knew his former Master wouldn’t even regret it. Obi-Wan was the most selfless person Anakin had ever met and most days this humbled him to the core.

Anakin shook his head. “No,” he promised the very universe and he bent forward, intent on claiming Obi-Wan as his own.

 _Mine_ , he thought, eyes fixed on Obi-Wan’s lips, giddy with anticipation, aching with loneliness and filled with the hungry, empty feeling of Ahsoka’s departure.

 _Need you_ , he half-thought, half-sent through their bond, watching as Obi-Wan’s eyes widened.

At the last second, Obi-Wan turned his head aside so that Anakin’s lips brushed his bearded cheek. Hurt and pain flooded through Anakin at this rejection. Doubt filled him. Had he read everything wrong? But as he tried to reel back and flee, Obi-Wan grasped the back of his neck and held him there, cheek to cheek, with Obi-Wan’s warm breath exhaling against his skin.

Anakin could feel his Master’s quickened heartbeat, his usually tightly-controlled emotions flaring with panic and regret and certainty and…something else which Obi-Wan quickly suppressed.

Anakin closed his eyes and held onto Obi-Wan tightly. “Please don’t,” he begged, not sure what he was asking for.

Obi-Wan’s lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Not like this, dear one,” he said, voice rough. And then he let go of Anakin and walked back towards the Temple.

He sent a last thought back to Anakin through their bond – still unbroken, just like his and Ahsoka’s was, Anakin realized – with a burst of warmth. _I’ll be meditating, if you wish to join me. When you’re ready._

“When I’m ready,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine’s machinations continue: isolating Anakin, exacerbating his possessive and selfish (it’s all about me) tendencies, and pushing him away from the Jedi. You see the results here, in his reaction to Ahsoka leaving. And Obi-Wan tries to guide him back to the light, as always. 
> 
> Now, back to the fluff!


	18. Morning Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin learns that meditation is not as bad as he’d previously believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely comments and likes/kudos! This story will have 25 chapters, just so you are all aware.

Anakin couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, feeling hot and sticky as the sheets tangled about his legs. The Temple air conditioner turned on and the temperature cooled a bit. After awhile it turned off again. Lights flickered past the closed curtains on his windows, as distant air traffic sped along designated air lanes.

Anakin sighed and rolled over again. He wondered whether he should try calling Padmé but after that whole incident with Clovis, she had asked for some space. The guy had been toxic and was way better off dead. Why couldn’t she see that?                                           

Besides, she had been secretive lately, attending meetings with Bail Organa and that Senator from Chandrila and brushing aside Anakin’s inquiries when he asked.

And she had told him that she was still in occasional contact with Ahsoka, who hadn’t once talked to him since she had left the Jedi.

Perhaps it was for the best that they spend some time apart, for he found himself growing confused about…about Obi-Wan. It had seemed so clear to him at first – Padmé his wife and confidant and angel, and Obi-Wan his Master and best friend and other half – but now…

With a growl of frustration, Anakin kicked the sheets off and moved over to his work table. Artoo, powered down in the corner, flickered on at Anakin’s movement.

“It’s alright Artoo,” Anakin reassured the little droid. “I just can’t sleep.” Artoo warbled and then settled back into low-power mode.

For awhile Anakin fiddled with the innards of a mouse droid he was attempting to improve.

As the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, warm and golden and sparkling off millions of windows, Anakin couldn’t take it any longer.

Escaping into the hallway, he passed Ahsoka’s room – _former_ room – without stopping.

He didn’t stop at Obi-Wan’s door either for he knew where his former Master was even at this Force-forsaken time of the day, when normal people were sound asleep.

The Gardens of Meditation were lush and vibrant, filled with life which hummed and vibrated in the Force. Luminous in the early dawn sunlight, the dark-green of the trees and deep-blues of the ponds shone in many hues. The waterfalls glittered silver and gold, and an aura of peace and tranquility mixed with a quiet industriousness caused by the many life forms going about their daily tasks. The result was a place that felt both restful and alive at the same time, a curious balance in the Force.

Anakin could tell why this was Obi-Wan’s favorite place.

When he was younger, still a padawan and plagued by nightmares, he would follow the faint light of Obi-Wan’s presence to wherever he’d chosen to meditate in the Gardens that day. Most often he would sit quietly beside his Master, gradually relaxing in his calm presence. Sometimes he would even join his Master in meditation if Obi-Wan cajoled him.

Anakin hated to meditate and avoided doing it unless Obi-Wan was there to guide him into it. It had been Obi-Wan who would meditate with Ahsoka after battles. Anakin rarely joined them, too tense and restless from the fight, but he could feel their joined presence in the Force, see their stillness as they sat together surrounded by the chaos of post-battle clone troopers, and eventually he would feel himself settle. He had watched his fellow brothers take comfort from Obi-Wan and Ahsoka’s shared meditation as well.

Perhaps all he needed right now was to simply sit beside his Master and feel some of that peace Obi-Wan seemed to carry with him.

The tall trees rustled high overhead, their leaves dancing and causing warm sunlight to pass like waves over his face. The grass and moss-covered ground was emerald green and soft-looking. Anakin took off his heavy boots and walked silent and barefoot past small clearing and alongside tinkling streams. He went by a couple of other Jedi, early risers like his Master, and had to execute an evasive maneuver under some bushes to avoid Master Windu.

At last Anakin turned behind a small copse of white-flowering trees and found Obi-Wan.

His breath caught.

His Master was in a small clearing, grass beneath his feet and sunlight glistening over the hard planes of his bare chest. Obi-Wan moved, slow, precise and graceful, as he executed the sinuous steps of the water dance.

Taught to all younglings as a way to greet the day, Anakin felt his mouth go dry as he watched Obi-Wan’s muscles ripple and move, each position flowing effortlessly into the next and then held at precisely the proper angle. Obi-Wan’s copper hair was damp with sweat, his eyes closed peacefully even as he took deep breaths of air to continue the dance.

Anakin greedily took in all that skin Obi-Wan covered up under plain robes, from his flushed face to his freckle-covered shoulders to the small patch of hair just visible above his low-hung trousers.

Anakin was helpless against the wash of arousal which swept through him, the longing to touch and explore and taste. All that grace and power was right there in front of him.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, brilliantly blue-green, saw Anakin and smiled.

A weird sort of ache, both sweet and painful, began in his chest and Anakin found himself unable to do anything else but smile back.

His gaze raked longingly over his Master’s perfect body once more and he saw Obi-Wan flush red under his scrutiny. Anakin watched, fascinated and hungry, as that blush travelled over his Master’s chest and disappeared below his belly-button.

Obi-Wan relaxed from his series of moves and hurriedly bent down to grab his tunic, pulling it over his head and hiding all that glorious skin from Anakin’s view once more.

Anakin had no idea Obi-Wan could get so flustered at a simple look from his former padawan. His Master must have felt his delight for the older man cleared his throat.

“You’re up early today, Anakin.”

Anakin shrugged. Not even the reminder of his sleepless night and his ever-present fears could dull the heady mix of joy, arousal and peace he was feeling.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he explained. Nonchalantly he prowled across the damp grass, moving closer to his Master. Somewhere overhead a bird trilled sweetly. “Thought I would,” he grimaced a bit as the words came out of his mouth, “meditate with you.”

Obi-Wan’s ever-present eyebrow shot up so fast it disappeared under his fringe. For a moment his cool gaze studied Anakin’s relentless prowl towards him. Then he gracefully dropped down to the grass, waving at the spot in front of him. “I am always happy to meditate with you, Anakin,” he said sincerely.

Anakin paused for a moment, slightly unsure about Obi-Wan’s easy acceptance and even more unsure that he actually wanted to meditate with his former Master. He had never enjoyed the art of meditation, never found it helpful, unlike most Jedi. It also felt like the Force was screaming at him when he opened himself up to it. Like there was too much input.

And everyday since this war began the Force grew in turmoil.

Anakin was…afraid. Just as he had been when he was ten and Obi-Wan had taught him how to swim. The Temple pools were still and cool, not cold, but their dark depths had scared Anakin so much he had refused to go in until Obi-Wan had carried him into the water in his arms.

Perhaps Obi-Wan remembered this moment for his face was unreadable but his kaleidoscopic eyes studied Anakin carefully. He placed his hands, palms up, on his knees. “Come Anakin,” his voice all crisp, cool formality, familiar to and adored by Anakin for most of his life, “I feel some joint meditation would do me good.”

Anakin sat, facing his Master and placing his hands lightly upon those saber-calloused palms. At the first touch of their hands, palm to palm, a jolt ran through Anakin, a sense of rightness and…home.

Anakin’s fingers curled around Obi-Wan’s even as the Jedi Master’s own eyes widened. Anakin wanted so much to kiss him right then and he could tell from his Master’s heightened color and the quick breath of air he took, that Ob-Wan could feel his emotions.

Anakin, however, could feel Obi-Wan’s hesitance, his underlying disquiet, and so he pulled himself under control. “I’ll follow your direction, Master,” he said, as he tightened his grip reassuringly.

With their minds so open to each other, Obi-Wan’s relief, his warm regard for Anakin, carried clearly over to the younger man. Anakin smiled and closed his eyes. The best part of meditation was that he could feel so many of the emotions his reserved Jedi Master kept hidden.

Anakin steadied his breathing until it matched Obi-Wan’s, hyperaware of how close they were, the clean scent of Obi-Wan’s sweat, and everywhere they touched at knees and hands.

Obi-Wan’s warm, golden presence was a shining thread in the Force, guiding him further inwards. Anakin breathed in and then out once more, relaxing and preparing to open himself fully to the Force, Obi-Wan beside him.

Someone hesitantly cleared their throat.

Anakin was thrown back into the present moment, eyes snapping open to behold Jedi Master Depa Billaba’s apologetic smile. His hands were still entwined with Obi-Wan’s and the two men were very close together.

Obi-Wan, looking unfairly composed, stood up and smiled. “Ah, Master Billaba.” He nodded at the boy who was beside her. “And this must be your new padawan, Caleb Dume.”

The boy looked furtively between Anakin and Obi-Wan, attempted a quick smile, but said nothing.

Master Billaba’s smile was warm and her dark eyes sparkled. “Obi-Wan. Anakin. Just thought you should know my old Master is headed this way, looking for you both. I didn’t think you’d want him to see you…” she hesitated infinitesimally, “…meditating.” Her smile smoothed to calm regard once more, but Anakin could see her lips twitching.

He groaned internally. The way she had delicately stressed the word ‘meditating’ meant that now whenever Anakin attempted to actually meditate, he would be thinking about…

_Wait, Mace Windu was coming? Here?_

“Windu’s coming?!” he yelped, scrambling to his feet and scrubbing ineffectually at his hair.

“Master Windu, Anakin,” Obi-Wan corrected absently, stroking his beard. “This doesn’t look like it will be good news. Thank you, Depa.”

Depa and Caleb – green eyes still wide – bowed and retreated.

“It’s not even breakfast time,” Anakin angrily informed the galaxy. “Why is Windu – _Master_ Windu – already hunting us down? I haven’t even done anything!” _That he knows about, anyway._

Obi-Wan sighed. “So much for my morning meditation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of fluff. Lush gardens, half-naked Obi-Wan, Jedi meditation, Anakin’s perpetual confusion and Mace Windu being the terror of the Jedi Order, lol.


	19. Obi-Wan's Wiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan uses his wiles to distract Anakin at a crucial moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place about a little over a month before ‘Revenge of the Sith’.

“Come on, Master,” Anakin wheedled.

“No,” Obi-Wan said repressively. It was a tone designed to stop further argument. Too bad it never worked on Anakin.

“It’ll be fun,” his former padawan tried.

Obi-Wan shuddered. Last time he, Anakin and Ahsoka went to the famous beaches of Wielu, Anakin had complained about being bored the whole time and Obi-Wan had spent what should have been rest and relaxation chasing down his old nemesis, the criminal and murderer T’mott Zoat.

He would have failed to bring that monster to justice if Anakin and Ahsoka hadn’t tracked him down in turn and gotten involved.

That caused him to smile.

“What?” Anakin demanded, suspiciously.

Obi-Wan clapped a gentle hand to the younger man’s shoulder. “Just remembering how lucky I am to have you in my life,” he confessed, which sentiment surprisingly caused his near-shameless former padawan to blush.

Obi-Wan’s smile grew. “Which still doesn’t mean we’re going to Wielu,” he finished.

Anakin groaned.

“I don’t know what possessed you and Artoo to come up with this idea of a vacation, now of all times. I’m fairly certain that droid has a wire loose somewhere.”

“Hey!”

They’d been away from Coruscant, fighting in the Outer Rim for five months and even Obi-Wan was exhausted. He would admit that D’qar, their current posting, was a rank hive of hoodlums and degenerates but still…

“The Council has assigned us this task, Anakin,” the Jedi Master said, firm but understanding. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but we have a job to do.”

Anakin rolled his eyes but forbore further argument. “Whatever you say, Master.” He sighed. “I’m going to check on Rex and the men.”

Obi-Wan nodded. The 501st was still reeling from the loss of Fives. _Defective chips_ , Obi-Wan frowned and stroked his beard. Something about that didn’t sit right with him and many other Jedi were beginning to agree. Luminara was making quiet inquiries and Obi-Wan had asked –

_Ah, there she was_.

“Don’t forget you wanted to practice your Jar’kai today, Anakin,” the Jedi Master called after his former padawan’s retreating – and increasingly broad-shouldered – back. “It’s not your strongest form,” he teased.

“Thanks Obi-Wan. Is this yours?” Anakin called back without looking, holding up his middle finger as he walked away.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan sounded scandalized but he was laughing too hard to properly pull it off.

There was a quiet echo of his laughter and Obi-Wan turned to see Ahsoka step out from behind a section of tall crates which housed munitions. She looked older than when Obi-Wan had last seen her, dressed in casual clothes without her familiar lightsabers hanging at her belt. Her blue eyes were hesitant and almost wary until Obi-Wan opened his arms and she laughed – half choked cry of relief and half surprised joy – before melting into his embrace.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Obi-Wan admitted, lips pressed to the top of her forehead. She was taller too, he noticed.

“If you or Anakin need me, I’m here,” she promised fiercely, face buried in the hollow of his neck and arms tight around him.

They drew back from one another and were Jedi once more. “I have a mission for you,” Obi-Wan said. “I need someone I can trust and since you are no longer with the Order, I believe that there will be less scrutiny over your actions.”

Ahsoka nodded.

“It’s about Fives’ death. And Dooku and Master Sifo-Dyas,” Obi-Wan told her. “There’s a connection here I’m just not seeing. I need you to go to Coruscant and meet with an old contact of mine from the Lower Levels. Hopefully she’s still there and we’ll be able to ascertain how deep the corruption runs.” He stroked his beard. “This is strictly confidential until we know more.” _The Chancellor’s grip on power has lasted too long and is only growing._

Ahsoka chewed on her bottom lip. “Even from Anakin?”

“Especially from Anakin. Just…until I’m sure.” Anakin had always been so touchy about his friendship with the Chancellor and Obi-Wan worried about how much his friend told the former Senator from Naboo. _Palpatine is first and foremost a politician._ He grimaced. _And this is why I hate getting involved with politics._

Ahsoka’s blue eyes, so wise and so old now, studied his face. “That bad, huh?” and she tried a smile.

Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder. “Just remember, little one, Sith Lords are our specialty.”

Her smile firmed and turned genuine; determined and fond and amused.

“Sometimes I think you’re as bad as Anakin, Master Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi Master pretended to be affronted. “I’ve never heard such cheek in my life,” he declared, slightly melodramatically and Ahsoka clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle giggles, her eyes dancing.

Obi-Wan winked at her.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin called, from alarmingly close by.

Ahsoka’s eyes widened. She stepped back from Obi-Wan and ducked behind the nearest crate barely a second before Anakin came into view. The Jedi Knight was frowning.

“Were you talking to someone? And what are you still doing over here anyway?” Anakin’s sharp gaze travelled over the crates.

Obi-Wan sighed internally even as he crossed his arms over his chest and arched an eyebrow. His former apprentice really had the worst timing. “Perhaps I was meditating.” He took a step to the side.

Anakin’s eyes followed him even as he snorted in disbelief. “Here?” Then he looked around at the crates again. “Even you, Master, couldn’t meditate here.” He waved a hand at the damp, humid air, the smell of rotting leaves and the acrid afterburn of plasma discharge. “Or in this –” his nose wrinkled “– swamp. ‘Lush and verdant,’ the Archives described it. Uh huh, sure.”

He looked around him again. “Besides I sense…” he trailed off, confused.

Obi-Wan took another slow step to the side but matched it this time with a step closer to Anakin. He needed the Jedi Knight’s attention solely on him. The younger man’s gaze gratifyingly snapped back to the Jedi Master.

Obi-Wan’s lips quirked even as his eyes softened. “Perhaps I was contemplating Grievous’ next move. Perhaps –” another slow step forward and to the side “– I simply needed a few seconds to myself.”

Anakin’s back was now to Ahsoka’s hiding place and Obi-Wan was well within his personal space.

The younger man watched Obi-Wan almost mesmerized, even as a slight flare of hurt passed across those sky-blue eyes. “Even from me, Master?” he asked, as though he could not contemplate such a thing.

Obi-Wan felt a small thrill at Anakin’s undivided attention, which he acknowledged but pushed aside for the moment as irrelevant. He took another half-step forward and dropped his crossed arms. There was barely any space between them now and Obi-Wan tilted his head up to meet Anakin’s wide, guileless eyes. He smiled and heard Anakin’s breathing speed up. “Especially from you,” he confessed, voice rough.

Anakin’s lips parted, and his hands reached for Obi-Wan.

The Jedi Master vaguely wondered if everything was always so intense between the two of them that a brief moment of teasing could turn into something so charged. The larger part of him knew that if he kissed Anakin now he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he couldn’t do that to Anakin, or to Padmé.

He reached up his right hand to tap Anakin gently on the cheek but as his fingers brushed over smooth skin he couldn’t help but move that hand to tangle in Anakin’s curls, tugging until the other man leaned forward and rested his forehead against Obi-Wan’s.

Anakin’s eyes fell closed and he released a soft sigh, some tension in him Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed relaxing.

“Especially from you, dear one,” Obi-Wan said again. He glanced to the side to see Ahsoka watching them both with eyes as wide as tea cup saucers. He waved her to go, he would send her details for his contact and some untraceable funds later.

Ahsoka shook her head in disbelief, looking between the two men once more before shooting Obi-Wan a rakish grin. ‘Go get him,’ she mouthed.

Obi-Wan stiffened and frowned but she had already scampered off.

Anakin felt his sudden tension and pulled back. Obi-Wan tugged gently on those long curls before releasing him. “Something has to be done about this soon before it becomes unmanageable,” he said, teasing gently and trying to dispel the charge between them again.

“I kind of like it,” Anakin returned, smile slightly forced, as uncertain of where they stood with one another as Obi-Wan was these days. As ever, Anakin tried to cover his fear with bravado. “Let’s get back to the men, Master, before I keep you all to myself forever.” He blushed furiously at his own words, looking mulish and abashed at the same time, as he waited for Obi-Wan’s response.

Obi-Wan shook his head, lost for words. _What was it that Anakin expected from him, anyway?_

Anakin turned away, still red, but Obi-Wan reached out a hand and held him back. “We’ll figure it all out after the war’s over,” he promised.

His words didn’t seem to reassure the other man. “Sure, Obi-Wan,” he said, and Obi-Wan silently followed him back to camp, wondering what it was, exactly, Anakin feared losing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, two steps back. To be fair, they are in a war, the Sith are on the rise, they’re supposed to be monks, and Anakin is already married. Plus, Anakin has a boatload of issues and Obi-Wan is actually trying to do the right thing. This is what makes them so fun to write!
> 
> I’ve noticed that I’ve had a lot of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka interaction, and not as much Anakin and Ahsoka. It just worked out that way, but never fear because Ahsoka and Anakin have a very crucial moment together in an upcoming chapter. Stay tuned.
> 
> Also, the comic book “The Smuggler’s Code” is the story I’m referring to in this chapter. Obi-Wan, Anakin and Ahsoka at the beach. Hilarious. Everyone should go read it.


	20. Storms and Premonitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin dreams of death and Obi-Wan uses Anakin as a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So potential symptoms of PTSD entered this chapter, which wasn’t planned, but there’s still a lot of fluff. Thank you for all your lovely comments. I’m so glad a lot of you are enjoying this story. It has been so much fun to write.

Thunder peeled across the artificial sky, raw and angry, and caused Anakin Skywalker to wake violently from sleep. He was covered in sweat, his heart racing, and visions of Padmé dying, Obi-Wan begging her to hold on, danced before his eyes in the darkness.

Dim sleep lamps glowed pale blue along the walls of Anakin’s assigned room at the Sullust Sector Spacefarers Academy. Sullust, with its beautiful underwater cities and galaxy-renowned factories and refineries, had been one of the first worlds to declare for Dooku and the Separatists.

Now, three years into the resulting war, the Sullustan Ruling Council had specifically requested Generals Kenobi and Skywalker to come and liberate their planet. Apparently, being ruled by a Sith Lord wasn’t to their liking.

Anakin and Obi-Wan had freed the planet, but they wouldn’t stay here long. Ahsoka had contacted them yesterday and said that she’d been on the trail of Darth Maul. She’d tracked him once more back to Mandalore.

What she was doing following that monster Anakin didn’t know, but the Jedi Council had assigned both Obi-Wan and Anakin, as well as their respective battalions, to stop Maul once and for all.

Good.

Another flash of lightning and peel of thunder ripped across the underwater sky. Anakin flinched. Despite all of his years away from Tatooine, he had never grown accustomed to thunderstorms. Their raw fury always unsettled him.

When he’d first arrived on Coruscant, he would often flee to Obi-Wan’s room when thunder crashed around the Temple.

Anakin threw back his covers and stood up, legs protesting and twinging relentlessly. He was exhausted – he always felt tired these days – and still half-asleep, so he didn’t even second guess his actions. Staggering over to the room directly adjacent to his, Anakin keyed the code and let himself in.

This room was also a dorm room when the Academy was in session, so it was a mirror of Anakin’s own. The only difference was that this one contained Obi-Wan.

The older man was curled up tightly in the center of the large bed. Lightning flashed across the sky again, highlighting soft, copper hair and lines of exhaustion and stress that hadn’t been there before the war. Anakin’s legs were cramping with tiredness, but he made himself walk slowly and softly over to the bed, not wanting to wake his master. The other man was usually such a light sleeper.

Obi-Wan always slept on his right side, one hand under his cheek and lips slightly parted in quiet breath. He was beautiful like this, a peace to him when he slept that made him look years younger, as he had been all those years ago when Anakin first met him.

Yet even as Anakin watched, Obi-Wan’s brow scrunched up, a look of pain and horror passing like a shadow across his face.

The thunder boomed and Anakin slid under the covers behind his Master, gathering the slightly smaller man into his arms and molding himself along Obi-Wan’s back.

The Jedi Master made a faint noise of contentment, relaxing into Anakin’s embrace and grumbling slightly when Anakin shifted to get comfortable. The pain on his face smoothed away as Anakin tightened his arms.

Anakin smiled and hid it in Obi-Wan’s soft hair. It still amazed him that his Master would unconsciously allow this closeness whenever the younger man tried it, as though subconsciously he always recognized Anakin’s presence and knew that the Jedi Knight meant him no harm.

Anakin couldn’t help but bring his flesh hand up, skating it under the edge of Obi-Wan’s sleep shirt and resting his palm against the smooth planes of Obi-Wan’s stomach. He reached out in the Force and felt carefully along the edges of Obi-Wan’s durasteel-strength shields. Patiently he waited until Obi-Wan’s unconscious recognized his presence and a faint opening appeared. Anakin slipped inside and tangled their Force signatures together.

The Force sang at their union for a brief time, pushing back the constant darkness and fear Anakin still felt from his dream. Anakin breathed in Obi-Wan’s familiar scent and drifted off to sleep.

He dreamed of Padmé dying.

_‘Don’t give up, Padmé,’ Obi-Wan begged her, looking more worn and defeated than Anakin had ever seen him. There were burn marks on his tunic and a frightening emptiness behind his sea-green eyes._

_… ‘Anakin!’ Padmé pleaded with him, hands at her throat and desperate fear in her dark eyes as she struggled fruitlessly…_

_There was the sound of harsh, mechanical breathing, something stalking him in the darkness, inhuman and merciless, the pain of a million burns over his body, the snap-hiss of a lightsaber followed by a terrifying blood-red glow…’Open fire!’ a voice screamed, and the air was filled with plasma…_

…and Anakin woke up to find his lungs burning, his eyes straining upwards towards the black shadow of Obi-Wan above him, with his hands vice-like around Anakin’s neck.

Anakin ruthlessly suppressed his first gut instinct to panic, and his second split-second reaction to shove Obi-Wan violently off of him.

This was Obi-Wan and the last thing Anakin wanted to do was hurt him. So he stayed very still, his throat aching and his lungs screaming at him, merely placing a hand lightly around each of Obi-Wan’s wrists, and reached out to his Master in the Force. He sent a wave of reassurance and love, safety and peace.

_You’re safe_ , he tried to say without words, sending it through their bond as black spots danced across his vision and Obi-Wan’s form swam while his body fought unconsciousness. _It’s over. I’m here_.

Obi-Wan’s hands slowly relaxed their death grip. “Anakin?” he sounded so confused that the younger man’s heart ached just as much as his lungs, while he coughed and greedily sucked in air.

“Anakin, what are you – ?” Obi-Wan waved the room light on, frowning down at Anakin beneath him. There were dark circles under his eyes, which were flat grey with confusion and growing alarm and remorse.

Anakin steadied his heartrate and breathing as the coughing ceased. Jeez, he’d sounded like Grievous for a moment there.

“Sorry, Master,” he said, voice scratchy and hoarse. “I didn’t think you’d react like that.” He should have though. This war meant that they were constantly on high-alert.

Obi-Wan didn’t make his usual quip on how ‘not thinking’ was Anakin’s middle name.

“It’s alright, Obi-Wan,” he soothed. “I’m not hurt, and I could have broken your grip if I needed to,” he boasted.

That got a small, wry twitch of the lips from the older man. “Confident, aren’t you?” he murmured, studying Anakin intently as the Jedi Knight lay sprawled beneath him.

Obi-Wan’s hips rested upon Anakin’s own, and the younger man could feel the heat and coiled strength in Obi-Wan’s thighs as they rested on either side of him. There was something almost possessive in those grey-green eyes. Hesitantly, Anakin raised his hands and placed them on Obi-Wan’s hips, his thumbs stroking his flushed skin in gentle circles.

The Jedi Master didn’t seem to notice as his eyes dropped to Anakin’s neck.

“Who did you think I was?” Anakin asked softly. “What did you dream of?” Obi-Wan didn’t usually remember his dreams and when he did those dreams never followed him into the waking world. That was Anakin’s own personal burden to bear.

Obi-Wan’s eyes met his and then he flinched away again. “I saw fire. And ashes,” he said softly. He closed his eyes and visibly centered himself. “Here, let me see those bruises.”

Anakin tilted his neck towards Obi-Wan trustingly and another flash of remorse flickered through those argent eyes.

Gentle fingers skated over reddened and slightly-bruised skin. Anakin shivered at the sensation and closed his eyes, feeling cool trickles of the Force wash over him as Obi-Wan soothed and healed. It was a tricky bit of work and one which his Master must have picked up from Luminara.

“Mmm, feels good Obi-Wan.” He could already sense his ever-present tiredness catching up with him as Obi-Wan’s fingers and Force-presence drifted over him. He opened heavy eyelids to find that Obi-Wan was very close, a warm and perfect weight covering him.

For a long moment they gazed at one another. Anakin didn’t know what Obi-Wan saw in his face, but Anakin himself catalogued all the little changes – new wrinkles and laugh lines, a few more strands of gray in that copper hair, the way Obi-Wan’s eyes would noticeably light up whenever he looked at Anakin these days, the way he tried to hide his staring whenever Anakin was within his eyeline – which he had noticed these past few years.

He smiled up at Obi-Wan, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart and the knowledge that Obi-Wan would deny this moment had ever happened come morning. He reached up a hand to tangle it in the hair at the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, tugging lightly.

Thunder and lightning boomed and flashed once more, but it seemed distant, muted almost. “Come Obi-Wan,” he coaxed. “Everything’s alright and we’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning forward until his body completely covered Anakin’s and cushioning his head on Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin snorted. “You’re going to sleep like that?” he teased. “Using me as a pillow?” His complaints were only by route; he loved the feel of Obi-Wan all over him.

“Too tired to move,” Obi-Wan mumbled into Anakin’s shoulder, already mostly asleep. His presence was evening out in the Force.

Anakin poked his Master gently in the hip, shifting until their legs were entwined and he could feel even more of Obi-Wan. “You’re not going to strangle me in my sleep again, are you Master?” he continued teasingly, utterly unconcerned about the prospect but needing to make sure that Obi-Wan had forgiven himself for his automatic reaction. He knew how often Obi-Wan blamed himself for things he had no control over.

Obi-Wan’s lips brushed the side of Anakin’s throat as he answered. “Only if you’re lucky.” His voice was a gravelly rumble; one-part annoyed, one-part exhausted and one-part slightly aroused.

Goosebumps broke out over Anakin’s skin, desire sluggishly uncurling in him at Obi-Wan’s voice and words. “Promises, promises,” he mumbled too tired to do anything about it as they both quickly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interplay of sexual attraction and violence? And cuddling? *shrugs* This just happened. Their fight in ‘Revenge of the Sith’ was completely charged with not just hatred and despair and loss, but love and comradeship and *probably* sexual attraction as well.  
> 
> 
> Obi-Wan was, of course, dreaming of Mustafar, but he doesn’t remember/understand it. I like to think that Qui-Gon was trying to warn him, but the Dark Side was clouding the Force and he couldn’t get through enough. 
> 
> P.S. Rex walks in the next morning to inform them that everything is ready for their departure to Mandalore. He finds Obi-Wan and Anakin intertwined together, which isn’t surprising to him because he thought they’d been together for years already, but he does clap a hand over Cody’s eyes and rapidly propel the other man from the room. 
> 
> They send Artoo in instead. 
> 
> P.P.S. Artoo takes a hologram image of them together and sends it to Ahsoka.


	21. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> farewell my own true love, farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th of July all you Americans out there! 
> 
> Obi-Wan leaves for the Utapau system to hunt General Grievous.

Obi-Wan stood in the bright sunshine to watch his troops board the carriers and tried not to squint. He didn’t think his men would be very impressed by a general who squinted.

Cody gave him a sharp, respectful nod as he marched by, and Obi-Wan could feel the Clone Commander’s loyalty to, and concern for, his Jedi General.

Obi-Wan shook his head in exasperation even as he was warmed by the other man’s regard. It was an honor to have a man such as Cody for a friend. Although, if the Clone Commander had his way, his general would be entirely covered in armor and not even allowed near a battlefield. The man was a worrier.

“Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi Master turned. Anakin stood in the shadows of the walkway with a troubled expression on his face, hair wilder than usual, and eyes heavy with sleeplessness.

Obi-Wan moved towards his former padawan, wanting to reach out and clasp his shoulder but unsure if such a gesture would be welcome. As Obi-Wan had feared, Anakin hadn’t taken to his new assignment by the Council to spy on the Chancellor – or his appointment to their ranks without the title of Master – well.

Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s anger, directed even towards him, leaking out from under the Jedi Knight’s powerful shields.

Anakin never shielded, at least not from Obi-Wan, but he was shielding now. The only things which escaped were occasional spikes of anger and fear. Moreover, since their return to Coruscant, Anakin had spent every moment of personal time with Padmé.

Or at least so Obi-Wan presumed since he left the Temple in the direction of the Senatorial apartments every night.

Obi-Wan wasn’t jealous. He loved Anakin…he was in love with Anakin. He, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was in love with Anakin Skywalker and his heart still pounded every time he realized this fact anew. So, whatever made Anakin happy, whatever gave him peace and comfort, had Obi-Wan’s full support. But he had thought…

Well, never mind that now.

Obi-Wan acknowledged his feelings of regret and disappointed hope but didn’t allow them to rule him. He reached out in the Force, sending feelings of comfort and the joy he felt at Anakin’s presence to the younger man across their bond; not trying to pry through Anakin’s shields, just wrapping him in warmth.

To Obi-Wan’s relief, Anakin visibly relaxed, an almost-smile hovering on his lips. Those lips took on a cocky slant and those vivid blue eyes flared with amused surprise when both men realized that the Jedi Master was staring at Anakin’s lips.

Obi-Wan flushed uncomfortably and hastily looked away, beginning to move slowly down the concourse. Anakin automatically kept pace with him.

“I wish I was going with you,” the younger man said. “You’re going to need me on this one, Master.”

There was a strange shift in Anakin’s voice, a desperation which Obi-Wan couldn’t place.

“Oh, I agree,” he said, hoping it was just Anakin’s hurt pride at the Council benching him, and his usual fear for Obi-Wan’s safety, which caused his Force presence to flare with something akin to despair. “Though it could turn out to just be a wild bantha chase.”

Knowing Anakin for over fourteen years had caused several Tatooine sayings to creep into his speech.

The two Jedi reached the end of the causeway and Obi-Wan could see Cody hovering in the background, waiting for him. It was time to go.

“Master,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan wondered when things had grown so formal between them, as though in the past fortnight on Coruscant they had become strangers to one another. Since Dooku’s defeat. Since Anakin’s new responsibilities from Palpatine. Since the Council’s refusal to grant him the rank of Master. Since Anakin was with Padmé once more.

“I’ve disappointed you,” Anakin continued, sounding stilted, as though saying the words by route. But there was something else behind those words. Obi-Wan listened to the Force and waited, a patient expression on his face.

Anakin looked like he was floundering for a further explanation. “I haven’t been very appreciative of your training.” Obi-Wan raised both eyebrows. “I’ve been arrogant,” Anakin admitted, “and I apologize. I’ve just been so frustrated with the Council.”

Obi-Wan’s heart lightened a little. It was rare that Anakin was able to pinpoint the source of his discontent and separate it from everything else in his life. That he knew he was frustrated with the Council and admitted it was affecting his judgment in other areas was a good first step.

Anakin was still so very young and, as Obi-Wan knew from his own history, wisdom often came with age and experience.

He smiled, feeling almost overwhelming fondness for the man standing before him. He reached out and lightly clasped his arms. “You are strong and wise, Anakin, and I am very proud of you. I have trained you since you were a small boy. I have taught you everything I know, and you have become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be.”

Obi-Wan had always been hesitant with praise. Anakin had been both brilliant and extraordinarily gifted growing up, and he so often knew it. But there was a time and a place to be stern and this was not it. Anakin needed to know that Obi-Wan trusted him, was proud of the person he had become, and believed in him.

He hoped it would help with whatever doubt the other man was currently going through.

Anakin smiled, his eyes lighting up in surprised joy even as a faint blush colored his cheeks. He dropped his gaze, but Obi-Wan still felt the warmth his words had caused flowing through the younger Jedi.

“But be patient,” he counseled. “It will not be long before the Council makes you a Jedi Master.”

Anakin nodded, accepting his words, and Obi-Wan was relieved to realize that that was the extent of the younger man’s anger and despair. Anakin had always felt things deeply, been so much more emotional than his peers, that Obi-Wan was sometimes at a loss for how to help him.

Perhaps he should recall Ahsoka from Mandalore.

But Anakin’s Force presence had noticeably lightened and he felt almost at peace. Obi-Wan studied him carefully – golden skin, soft curls, bright, sky-blue eyes, broad shoulders, restless hands, full lips, the brilliant glow of his presence in the Force, and the bond between them – everything that made him Anakin Skywalker.

For a moment Obi-Wan drank in that familiar visage, dearer to him than any other, and he hesitated, wondering what Anakin would do if he reached out and threaded his hands through those unruly curls, if he just tugged Anakin to him, kissed all his fear away.

  _I love you_ , he thought, as his heart pounded, and his stomach clenched with so much want and subsequent fear of rejection that he felt sick.

_Padmé_ , he told himself. _Anakin has made his choice_. It was clear.

And Cody was still standing there, watching them both from a respectful distance.

And on Coruscant someone was always watching.

Obi-Wan nodded to his former padawan, turned and walked away. Hot, humid sunshine hit him as he moved down the walkway.

“Obi-Wan.”

Anakin’s voice. Calling him. Obi-Wan turned, heart lodged in his throat, wondering if somehow Anakin had heard his silent words after all. Perhaps he was calling him back to…

“May the Force be with you.”

Anakin stood above him, dark robes blending in with shadow, and there was nothing in his eyes but friendship and regret. He had never sounded more like a Jedi.

Obi-Wan smiled and hoped it looked genuine. “Good-bye old friend,” he said, willing any disappointment he felt, that sharp pain beginning in his chest, the nausea churning in his gut, ruthlessly away. He had been mistaken, and there was no one to blame but himself.

It had been foolish to believe that a man as young and handsome and brilliantly-promising as Anakin, who had a beautiful Senator for a lover, would instead give it all up to be with his former teacher, a rather boring and straight-laced, rapidly nearing middle-age, Jedi Master.  

It had been a passing fancy on Anakin’s part, obviously. It had been born of the hardships of war and nothing more.  

“May the Force be with you,” he said. _You are a Jedi_ , he reminded himself. _You swore an oath and there is no room for regret._ He turned and did not look back.

Yet when he reached the waiting carrier he couldn’t help but look up to the walkway, but Anakin was gone.

_Foolish_ , he reminded himself. An old, Force-sensitive pirate woman had once held his hand, looked into his eyes, and told him with regret that he had been made for infinite sadness. Some days, Obi-Wan thought she might be right.

“General Kenobi.”

Cody’s voice.

“Yes, Commander?”

“There’s a communication come through for you. Marked as urgent.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Put it through.”

An old Corellian spacefaring hymn came to him then. The first line went, ‘Farewell my own true love, farewell.’ It seemed apt.

Duty had to come first. Everything else could wait, and he had done all he could. It would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, angst and some bittersweet melancholy. Obi-Wan has no idea Anakin’s afraid of Padmé dying in childbirth, because Anakin doesn’t tell him. So, he tries to fix what he thinks is the problem. And Anakin is, apparently, a master of the mixed message but now his wife is pregnant, so he feels even more responsibility to stay with her, even though he is drawn to both her and Obi-Wan. Sorry, it’s supposed to be a holiday, but we are into ‘Revenge of the Sith’ now.
> 
> But who has called Obi-Wan at the last second? Stay tuned. 
> 
> It was rather difficult to meld the dialogue from ‘Revenge of the Sith’ into this chapter and hopefully it came out alright. I was analyzing all the little cues from Anakin and Obi-Wan’s last scene as friends in the movie again. I love all the symbolism and parallels in it, even as I'm just yelling at Anakin to tell Obi-Wan what the real problem is.


	22. Anakin Makes a Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU for 'Revenge of the Sith'. Padmé does the right thing and Ahsoka learns what it truly means to be a Jedi Knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait everyone! But this chapter was rather difficult to get through. It’s longer than the others and has POVs from Padmé and Ahsoka, as well as from Obi-Wan and Anakin. Some quotes came from Revenge of the Sith, Return of the Jedi, Rebels and the Darth Vader comics.

“Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan answered the comlink in a clipped tone, shouting over the sound of the engines, his mind already far away on the hunt for Grievous and his entire body already missing Anakin like he would a physical limb.

Around him the men of the 212thAttack Battalion made another check of their weapons and coms. Someone muttered a sarcastic comment and Boil made a joke about the scantily clad Twi’lek woman painted on the nose of the LAAT dropship. Jumper, their pilot, shot back a sarcastic comment of his own. The men around him laughed quietly, trying not to disturb their General. The noise was a familiar, reassuring hum in the background of his attention.

He couldn’t fathom who would be calling him now, as they were making their final preparations for departure and were being shuttled up to _The Negotiator._ If he had to make a bet though, he’d place money on some politician or other. They seemed to assume the universe revolved around them and that battle would be won only with their input.

Obi-Wan could already feel a headache coming on.

“General Kenobi,” came the sweet but formal tones of Senator Padmé Amidala.

Obi-Wan felt an entirely inappropriate feeling of anger at her voice, which he quickly pushed aside. Whatever else she was, Padmé was first and foremost a friend. Obi-Wan thought of Anakin then; the swoop in his stomach which he felt every time Anakin looked at him with those bright, blue eyes and smiled at him. He thought of Anakin’s obvious obsession with the Naboo Senator, and his own past feelings for Satine, and even for fierce, bright Siri Tachi, so long ago now. Force, what a mess.

“Senator Amidala, how may I help you?” he said in his most polite and professional tone. She deserved nothing less, even though he couldn’t quite approve of her inappropriate relationship with Anakin.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Cody raising his hand to halt the departure of the last troop carrier; theirs. The sublight engines cut back to idling and the clones pretended not to watch their General even as they shamelessly listened to his talk with the Senator. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. This was really not a good time. So much rode upon their speed and secrecy.

“I apologize for the bad timing,” Padmé continued hurriedly, as though aware of his thoughts, “but I only just found out you were leaving today, and I need to speak with you before you go.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to tell her that that would not be possible and end the conversation, but something in her voice, some niggle in the Force perhaps, made him pause. So instead, after a moment, he said, “Now is really not a good time, Senator.”

Padmé seemed to have been holding her breath for she let it out in a rush. “I know, Master Jedi, but several of my sources back on Naboo have intercepted intel regarding General Grievous’ location which I want to make you aware of as soon as possible.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“It’s more secure to debrief you in person, General Kenobi, than to risk sending it even over an encrypted transmission.” She paused. “And I assume you’ll be out of communication for a while until you’ve located and dealt with Grievous and the rest of the Separatist Council.”

She made a valid point.

Obi-Wan stroked his beard and looked over at Cody, who shrugged. It was possible, however unlikely, that Naboo assets had intercepted reports which mentioned Grievous’ current location in the Utapau system; however, the normal protocal would be for Padmé to pass the information on to the Senate Intelligence Committee, chaired by their mutual friend, Bail Organa.

There was no reason he could see for Padmé to bypass the usual chain of command in this instance. Unless she suspected someone on the committee of being a Separatist spy? There had been disturbing reports coming from the Chancellor’s office lately, and the Council was becoming more and more wary of Palpatine himself, as well as his seemingly never-ending hold on power.

Obi-Wan knew Bail Organa was concerned over the length of Palpatine’s chancellorship, his amassing more and more power in the executive office, as well. He had assumed the Alderaanian Senator had shared his concerns with Padmé, but perhaps not? Or perhaps this was simply a Jedi matter and Padmé saw no need for Senate interference?  

He nodded once. “I will be there as soon as I can,” he told the Naboo Senator, and ended the transmission.

He felt the wary anticipation of his troops around him, heard the shifting of their armor, the clinking as their guns were dropped to hang once more at their sides, and met Cody’s gaze. “Best not to say anything of where I’ve gone, Commander,” he said lightly. “Just to be sure.”

Cody nodded grimly. “This war just keeps getting dirtier and dirtier,” he said, voice as grim as his face.

Obi-Wan agreed but there was no sense in causing even more unrest and unease amongst his men. “The sooner we deal with Grievous, the sooner we can end this war once and for all,” he said, and hoped beyond hope that when he returned from the fighting there wouldn’t be more conflict here in their very capital, if Palpatine refused to step down from office once the fighting was done.

He worried what choice Anakin would make if forced to choose between his friend the Chancellor, and the Jedi Order.

 

***

 

Padmé restlessly moved around her silent apartment, trying to quell the nervous fluttering in her stomach which told her she was betraying her husband. _This had to be done,_ she told herself for the hundredth time, but she remembered the anger in Anakin’s voice when he’d asked her if Obi-Wan had been here and she’d told him that the Jedi Master was worried at the pressure he was under. Anger. As though Padmé and Obi-Wan were conspiring against him.

Anakin had been so angry lately, so closeted with the Chancellor, so distant, that sometimes she caught herself wondering if she really knew him anymore.

They had married young, had only known each other a few days and had only spent the grand total of several weeks together during the three years in which the Clone Wars raged across the galaxy.

It wasn’t exactly a firm basis for a marriage, but she loved him. The brilliant little boy who had become her knight in shining armor.

She had asked for distance after Clovis’ death. Anakin’s irrational jealousy over their previous relationship alarmed her, but then Ahsoka left the Order and she couldn’t find it in herself to deny him any longer.

And now with their child on the way…

That was why she had to do this, she reminded herself firmly, drifting over to her bedroom and changing into a royal blue gown with voluminous sleeves and deep purple trim on the sides. It was a gown meant to hide her pregnancy.

Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed her altered form the last time he was here, but that had been several weeks ago, and he had been quite distracted in his worry over Anakin.

She found herself wishing she could tell him about the child, ask him what she should do. But she thought that perhaps her speaking to Obi-Wan about Anakin today, breaking his confidence, was more than enough betrayal of their marriage for one day.

Karté knocked and entered her room soundlessly, hands carrying ornate clips and jewelry as she stood behind the Senator’s chair and began to twist Padmé’s long hair into an elegant design currently in vogue among the Coruscanti elite. Padmé worried her bottom lip and drummed restless fingers on the table in front of her.

“Are you worried that Master Kenobi will betray your secrets, milady?” Karté asked quietly. “Or are you worried that Jedi Skywalker will be angry with you?”

Padmé winced internally even as she ruefully concluded that her handmaidens all knew how to read her better than even her husband.

“I am worried that I’m making a mistake in how I’m handling this marriage,” she admitted. “He’s my husband but he…” she trailed off, unable to put her fears into words, even for a dear friend.

Karté remained silent until she was finished with Padmé’s hair. She handed the Senator her jewelry for the day. Her voice was certain when she finally spoke. “General Kenobi has always struck me as wise and noble, milady. He will do what he can to assist you. And he has known General Skywalker for many years. He will know what to do.”

Padmé could hear something in her friend’s carefully controlled response, something in the way she specifically noted the length of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s relationship. But Karté was as skilled in espionage as poor Duja had been, and not even Padmé could read her at times.

“You’re saying that Obi-Wan will know how to handle Anakin better than I would?” she asked, colder than she intended but it hurt to hear that assumption, when all she heard and saw on the HoloNet were the exploits of Kenobi and Skywalker, heroes of the Republic. The Team.

When even Bail Organa asked her if there was something more going on between the two Jedi.

When all Anakin talked about some days was Obi-Wan.

When she saw them together and they drifted in orbit around each other, sharing inside jokes and touching so freely, yet she and Anakin had to hide all affection for each other while in public.

When Anakin wanted to protect her but he actually trusted Obi-Wan to handle himself. And he actually _listened_ to Obi-Wan…

She was not…she was not jealous. She was just…

She scowled at herself. This was about the child, not her.

“Perhaps in this instance, he does milady,” Karté continued unrepentantly and Padmé almost, _almost_ , smiled. Karté had always been the bluntest of her handmaidens as well.

“Have you been talking to Sabé again?” she asked, mock severely and Karté grinned at her briefly.

“We all just worry for you, milady. That’s all. These are dangerous times and you carry a Jedi’s child when all around me I hear people talk of how the Jedi are to blame for this war. I couldn’t bear for you to get hurt.”

Padmé twisted around and clasped her friend, her sister, by the arm. “I know,” she admitted. “And I am so grateful to all of you.” She stood up. “Now come, help me decide what to feed this little one. He’s hungry for something unusual, and undoubtedly disgusting. I can tell.”

She thought, as she followed Karté to the kitchens, of how she had told Obi-Wan about the secret conversations she and Bail and Mon Mothma were having with thousands of other concerned Senators about how this war was progressing. Of what they were losing in the process. All these months later, and she still couldn’t get the Chiss warrior’s, Thrawn’s, question out of her mind. Why didn’t they just let the Separatist planets secede from the Republic? Why had it led to war? A war in which so many Jedi had been killed.

Obi-Wan had been unsurprised at her fears, or by the actions of their group within the Senate and had hinted at the Jedi Council’s own unease over Palpatine’s extended term in office.

But she hadn’t told Anakin that either. She had been…concerned. Only concerned. At his continued close friendship with the Chancellor. That was all.

Perhaps she would tell him later. Perhaps she wouldn’t tell Obi-Wan anything at all and just wish him well in his hunt for the cyborg general.

She sighed at her own silent and internal waffling. Perhaps she was becoming timid in her old age and she should retire to the Lake Country with her handmaidens and have her child in peace.

The galaxy would undoubtedly continue on without her. 

 

***

 

Padmé Amidala of Naboo was a beautiful woman and a good friend but today she looked exhausted and so distant that Obi-Wan feared the dark thoughts she appeared lost in.

Coruscant was picturesque at the moment, golden sunshine filtering through fluffy, white clouds to dapple in ever-moving patterns across the fountain in Padmé’s penthouse apartment. Obi-Wan watched the kaleidoscopic shift of water droplets and listened to their music as he tried to patiently wait for Padmé to gather her thoughts. The Naboo Senator was wringing her hands in distress and her heartrate was becoming extremely elevated.

She was also in the final weeks of pregnancy.

That had shocked Obi-Wan only for a moment – that neither Anakin nor Padmé had told him – for of course the father was Anakin. Even if either of them had been the least bit subtle in their relationship, the brilliant, overlapping Force signatures of the twins Padmé carried were as familiar to the Jedi Master as his own name. They felt like Anakin in the Force, despite their clear differences and Obi-Wan felt his heart lighten, joy taking hold of him unexpectedly as those tiny beings unconsciously reached out to him.

He wrapped them both in all the love and warmth and promises of protection which he possessed, felt their uncomplicated happiness at the contact, and then he tried to soothe the concern they felt at their mother’s distress.

“Padmé,” he began, reaching out to lay a hand on her arm.

She twitched away from him, standing up and moving towards the edge of the balcony, one hand resting on her swollen stomach. She appeared to watch the orderly traffic lines several hundred feet above her but Obi-Wan knew she wasn’t really seeing them.

“Is this about the children?” he asked her gently.

He felt her sudden sharp flare of fear in the Force, the echoing fear of the little ones which he hastily reached out to soothe. _It’s alright, dear ones_ , he promised. _It will be alright._

“Children?” she asked, swinging around to face him and sounding genuinely surprised.

Obi-Wan frowned. “Yes,” he confirmed. “Anakin is the father, isn’t he?”

Padmé still looked shocked. “Children,” she murmured.

Obi-Wan stood up then and slowly moved towards her. “You didn’t know you were carrying twins?” he asked her, using his most soothing voice, the one he had often used after Anakin’s childhood nightmare woke him, screaming, from sleep.

“Twins,” she repeated, still sounding dazed. Around them hummed the distant noise of Coruscant’s traffic, the tinkling of the fountain, the soft murmuring of the voices of her handmaidens in the next room. Obi-Wan waited. Then her lips firmed, and she met his eyes. “No, I didn’t know,” she said, voice steadying, “and Anakin…” she trailed off abruptly, as though she had said too much.

Obi-Wan couldn’t prevent the sharp bark of laughter that escaped him. “Anakin’s never been one for subtleties and given that their Force presences overlap and may be too similar to his own for him to differentiate them, he may not have been able to tell.”

“Twins,” she repeated again, bemused. “And they’re Force sensitive?” There was both hope and fear in her voice.

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched. That was like asking if the sun was bright. “Very.”

“Good grief.” And her lips twitched in a wry smile which was a mirror to his own. Her smile fell away after a moment and she looked troubled once more.

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan said seriously, taking her shoulder, “who else knows that you’re pregnant?”

She shook her head. “No one expect my handmaidens, Threepio, Anakin, my head of security, and now you. I only started even showing a few weeks ago.”

“Have you been getting proper medical treatment?” Sometimes Force-sensitive pregnancies were more dangerous than most, for both mother and child, and Padmé was carrying twins with a Force potential equal to Anakin’s own, as far as Obi-Wan could tell.

Padmé’s chin rose stubbornly. “No one can find out,” she insisted. “Anakin would never survive it if he was asked to leave the Order and I…” she trailed off, looking more lost than Obi-Wan had ever seen her.

Obi-Wan felt a sudden swell of understanding and compassion. Padmé might not even remember what life looked like without being in public service, and the scandal of her becoming pregnant – even if it wasn’t revealed that the father was a Jedi, would be enough for the queen to ask for her resignation from the Senate. He pushed those thoughts aside. The children had to come first.

“Anakin has never struck me as having much love for the Order,” he commented dryly, trying to push through her fear with a small amount of humor.

Padmé’s eyes flashed. “Maybe not, but he has deep loyalty to _you_. You are the reason he stays.” And it sounded almost like an accusation.

Obi-Wan took in her anger, her fierce protection of the man she loved, her barely hidden fear that if forced to choose between her and Obi-Wan, Anakin wouldn’t pick her, and once more cursed the tangled web they had all made.

Obi-Wan remembered the Father on Mortis forcing Anakin to choose between Obi-Wan’s life and Ahsoka’s, and how Obi-Wan knew that Anakin would not survive making such a choice. He took a deep breath.

“Padmé, Anakin has loved you from the moment he met you. If he was required to leave the Order due to his commitment to you,” he glanced down at where he felt those bright, beautiful Force presences, “and your children, he would never think twice about it.” The next part was harder to get out than he expected. “And no matter what happens, he will never lose me.”

He met her dark eyes again. “And neither will you. I will help you both in any way that I can, but what matters now, the only thing that matters, more than your pride or even Anakin breaking the rules, _again_ ,” he grimaced, “are the lives and safety of those children.”

Padmé nodded. “That’s why I asked you to meet me today, Obi-Wan.” She seemed to be holding her breath. She worried her bottom lip as her eyes flitted once more over Coruscant’s traffic. Her hand stroked over her stomach and the Jedi Master felt the children inside her calm at their mother’s touch.

They really were extraordinarily Force sensitive.

Padmé braced herself. “I’m worried about Anakin.”

That wasn’t what Obi-Wan expected. The Force moved around her strangely for a moment, unsettled, sickly, currents shifting and changing. As always lately, it was impossible for him to read.

“Why?” Obi-Wan prompted her cautiously.

When she couldn’t seem able to go on, he gently took her hands and led her back to the couch.

“He’s been so lost lately,” she admitted at last. “So angry at the Council and the War and…and even with you.” Her eyes flickered to his and she looked apologetic.

Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly shocked by this revelation.

“And afraid,” she continued hurriedly. “He’s been having dreams of me dying in childbirth. Like those he had of his mother…”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to interject, surprised by this revelation, but she quickly waved him to silence.

“I know how dangerous these times are for Jedi,” Padmé said fiercely. “For Anakin in particular, and I will not be the cause of him falling to the Dark Side.”

And then, after all the times Obi-Wan had wondered and asked, and waited for Anakin to tell him, she finally explained what happed on Tatooine when Anakin’s mother was taken by the Tusken Raiders.

And Obi-Wan felt a little bit of his absolute trust and faith in Anakin Skywalker die with the telling.

“Who else knows about this?” he asked her at last, hearing the coldness in his own voice, like thin ice after the first frost; one touch would shatter it.

Padmé hesitated for so long that Obi-Wan thought she wouldn’t answer.

“Who else, Padmé?” he demanded, knowing, dreading the answer even before her dark eyes met his own.

And the answer chilled Obi-Wan to the bone.

 

***

 

Ahsoka Tano, former Jedi Padawan and unofficially a Jedi Knight – even if she was no longer part of the Order – crouched in the shadows of the thirty-ninth story of an overly-ornate building in the Uscru District on Coruscant. And watched.

She remained still and silent despite her hammering heart and the routine patrol of red-armored clones which passed uncomfortably close to her hiding place. There was an uneasy feeling in her gut and the Force remained stubbornly silent. It probably didn’t approve of her mission any more than Ahsoka herself did.

Ahsoka Tano, former Jedi Padawan, was currently keeping her Master, Jedi General and hero, Anakin Skywalker, under surveillance like he was some sort of criminal or Separatist spy. Every time she thought about it, she felt sick and ashamed. But then she remembered Master Obi-Wan’s face when he’d disembarked from the dropship and stood before her on the platform in Sundari, the domed capital city of Mandalore.

Her master’s Master always had a twinkle in his eyes, a gentle smile ready for her on his lips, and an irrepressible spirit. Obi-Wan had still be Obi-Wan on Mandalore, still entirely in control of himself, but there had been a shadow behind those eyes, almost a fear or a desperate last hope, like the final move a cornered animal, that had Ahsoka deeply worried.

Master Obi-Wan looked like he was living a nightmare.

“I’m sorry to burden you with this, Ahsoka,” he had said, polite and kind and obviously very far away from her, “but I fear I may be too well known to move with the stealth this mission requires, while you have officially left the Order. I fear what Anakin has told the Chancellor…and who has overheard him. There is something not right with all of this – Anakin’s appointment to the Council, the length of this war, the Chancellor’s interference in Jedi affairs, and how visible he has made the Jedi in this conflict.”

“And Fives,” she reminded him.

“And Fives.”

Ahsoka nodded and mulled over what he had asked of her. “You think Anakin is in danger from the Sith?” she asked, remembering the trail she and Senator Bail Organa had followed three months ago, which went cold when it reached the Chancellor’s office.

Master Obi-Wan hesitated then and Ahsoka felt a sharp, stabbing pain go thorough him even across the weak Force bond they shared as grandmaster and grand-padawan. A cold rush of fear hit her then, even before Obi-Wan said, “From himself.”

Ahsoka knew Master Obi-Wan loved and trusted her; she had always known that. She also knew, perhaps even better than her master, how much Obi-Wan loved Anakin. She thought of her brilliant, volatile, unorthodox master and couldn’t believe what Master Obi-Wan feared.

But Obi-Wan was as wise as Master Yoda and she trusted him with her life.

What’s more, she trusted him with Anakin’s life.

She nodded. “I won’t let you down, Master,” she promised.

Obi-Wan reached out and grabbed her shoulder roughly, his intense blue eyes anxious. “I don’t like this at all, so if you see anything, _anything at all,_ you send for me immediately and you inform the Council. Do not engage, Ahsoka. Not even for Anakin. If this is the Sith Lord we have been searching for, and he or she has been influencing Anakin, I don’t want you anywhere near either of them.”

She nodded again.

“Watch only. Let Anakin flush them out, and then we will decide how to proceed.”

Ahsoka had promised faithfully, aware that she was no match for a Sith Lord who was Dooku’s master in the Dark Side. Anakin and Master Obi-Wan had never let her get even remotely close to Count Dooku in all the years they had faced him.

She really didn’t like using Anakin as bait – any more than she knew Master Obi-Wan did – but she had been betrayed by someone close to her, someone she had trusted with her life, before. Barriss had fallen to the Dark Side and no one had seen it, not even Ahsoka or Barriss’ master, Luminara Unduli.

No one had watched her closely enough.

Ahsoka wouldn’t make the same mistake with Anakin. Her Master was _not_ going to be taken by the Sith. Not on her watch and not with Master Obi-Wan on the case.

Rex would lead the 501stagainst Maul on Mandalore, Master Obi-Wan would defeat Grievous, and she would keep Anakin out of trouble. Gloomily she adjusted her position on the ledge, thirty-nine stories above street level, and contemplated the fact that she probably had the hardest job of all.

She sighed as a light drizzle began to fall from the night sky. “Great,” she muttered, squinting to make out the lights from the Galaxies Opera House. Tonight the opera house was playing something which originated from Mon Calamari, called _Squid Lake_ , and the Chancellor was reported to be on the guest list.

Ahsoka felt like rolling her eyes. Palpatine had commandeered the best viewing box within the circular seating area several years into his Chancellorship, and it was considered the height of privilege to be invited to attend a performance with him. Ahsoka had never heard of a Jedi being invited but one of Padmé’s handmaidens, Dormé, met her at Dex’s Diner without the Senator’s knowledge to inform her that Anakin was to be his guest for tonight.

Ahsoka had no idea how Master Obi-Wan managed to get Padmé’s handmaidens to assist her, but she was grateful. Anakin came and went like the wind, always on the move, and she was growing exhausted keeping up with him.

Dormé had chuckled at her tired, grumpy face in the Diner, even as Dex plied her with strong caf. “He’s as tireless as milady,” she’d agreed, before she’d reached out and tapped Ahsoka gently on the back of her hand. “If you need any help, Hollé and I are more than ready to assist you. We are used to moving unseen.”

Ahsoka couldn’t remember what Hollé looked like. “How many of you are there?” she demanded, and Dormé just smiled mysteriously.

A fine mist now hung in the air from the rain, and the sides of the building steamed around her as cool droplets struck the still-warm duracrete. The steady drip-drip of the water droplets was soothing as she squinted through her macrobinoculars at the beings filing into the opera house.

_Ah, there he was._

The Chancellor arrived in ostentatious pomp and ceremony, files of red-armored clones lining the stairs leading up to the opera house as he ascended, waving genially to those around him. Ahsoka had never felt one way or the other about Palpatine until she spent several months in Coruscant’s underbelly following her departure from the Jedi Order.

Now she understood Master Obi-Wan’s quiet dislike and extreme mistrust of the man. There was too much corruption, too much government oversight, and too many laws being put into effect which penalized those who were pro-Jedi and non-human for Palpatine to be unaware.

She pushed aside her dislike of the man for the moment, concentrating on watching him, and his decadent robes, enter the main entrance. As she had both expected, and dreaded, he was alone. The only guest with him tonight would be Anakin.

Her master showed up 10 minutes late, as usual. She smiled as Anakin parked his speeder illegally and ran up the stairs four at a time, his hair a mess and his robes on crooked. She shook her head even as she felt warmth spread through her. Master Obi-Wan always said Anakin would be late to his own funeral.

Her smile fell away. _Force, she hoped so._

Once again, as had become all too common in the past several days, Anakin was alone with the Chancellor.

Ahsoka made a note of it on her holopad, pushed aside her feelings of unease to deal with at a later time, and settled in to watch.

Ahsoka waited until the opera house was emptied and the cleaning droids were let loose before she left her hiding place. She put away her macrobinoculars, made sure her Force presence was completely masked like Master Obi-Wan had showed her, and then jumped off the building.

She slowed her descent with the Force, landing in a crouched position on rain-spattered pavement thirty-nine stories down. She paused, feeling for any other presences around her, reaching out with her senses while hiding her own. The only sound was the drip-drip of rain.

Once the playhouses emptied, the Uscru District was eerily empty, and Ahsoka couldn’t help the shiver that ran up her spine at the unwilling thought that she was the only person left for many blocks. She took a quick breath and vanished into the shadows.

She realized, two blocks later, that she was being followed. A creeping feeling of malevolence began to seep into the very air around her. She took a quick right, a left and then a double right. Perfect.

An empty courtyard stood before her, silent fountains and slender trees dripping with water surrounded the center, flat area. Black and empty skyscrapers towered above her and the only illumination came from dull, flickering street lights and the ch’hala trees, whose trunks in the trees around her immediate location glowed as the sound waves from her footsteps reached them.

Ahsoka turned, dropping her cloak, and ignited her lightsabers, their green and yellow-green glow echoing the ch’hala trees as they too flared around her.

“Ahsoka Tano,” hissed a sibilant voice, more evil than she had ever felt before surrounding her like a noxious cloud. “Mine, at last.”

And out of the darkness stepped Chancellor Palpatine.

Ahsoka raised her lightsabers higher. She would not panic but she knew she was vastly outmatched. However, he had done, however he had found her, however he had hidden his presence from thousands of Jedi, before her stood a Sith Master. Ventress felt like a passing shadow compared to the power and mastery and darkness which emanated from him.

He laughed and there was nothing kindly in his face. “I should have expected Master Kenobi to send a child,” hissed the man in the hooded cloak, whose kindly mien had been dropped to reveal the monster underneath.

“Jedi Knight,” said Ahsoka evenly, stepping back slowly as he stepped forward and desperately trying to come up with any tactic she could use to hold him off long enough to run.

_Everyone has a weak spot,_ the Anakin in her head said.

_Keep talking, keep stalling, until you find it_ , Obi-Wan agreed.

_What does he want?_ Padmé asked.

_And then definitely don’t give it to him and punch your way out_ , Rex advised.

She met Palpatine’s sickly yellow eyes firmly. She arched an eyebrow marking like she had seen Master Obi-Wan do a thousand times before. “Took you long enough to spot me. Just like the Council…and Master Obi-wan,” she taunted, “said.”

He lost that arrogant smile at least.

“Your faith in your precious Jedi Order is your weakness,” he snapped.

Ahsoka saw a flicker of something behind the Chancellor. It almost looked like…

“Perhaps,” she agreed smoothly, glancing back at the Sith Lord. “But not my faith in Master Obi-Wan.” She felt his rage flare at that, and she wondered if Obi-Wan would be vaguely amused at the thought that he had managed to make a personal enemy of a powerful Dark Side user he didn’t even know the identity of. Probably. Master Obi-Wan had a strange sense of humor sometimes.

Besides, now she knew exactly what Palpatine wanted. “And not my faith in Anakin,” she said, knowing the Chancellor could feel her complete honesty.

Palpatine eyed her like an Aiglish about to crush a tiny Shili mouse. “We will see,” he said flatly, a red lightsaber appearing in his hand. The red blade flickered into existence with a deadly snap-hiss and then he dove at her.

Ahsoka parried three strikes, managed to dodge the fourth fast enough that she ended up only with a singed shoulder instead of losing an arm, and then she threw herself backwards, shoving Palpatine away from her as hard as she could with the Force.

“Now!” she cried.

And the flicker she had seen before – the glint of light off a row of thermodetonators scaling the sides of two of the skyscrapers – shone in the Sith Lord’s red blade as he flew between them. It was the last thing Ahsoka saw before the world was suffused in an orange-yellow fireball and the concussive blast hit her.

The Force flared from within the inferno and Ahsoka knew that Palpatine was only minorly injured, if that.

There were three soft thuds behind her and Ahsoka turned to see Dormé, Hollé and a woman who looked so much like Padmé that she could only be Sabé, drop down from an overpass using the ascension cables on their S-5 heavy blaster pistols. They opened fire as soon as they touched the ground, and the air around Ahsoka was filled with the blue of laser bolts as Padmé’s handmaidens shot into the explosion where the Chancellor still lived.

Ahsoka didn’t even pause. “Run!” she shouted, sprinting towards them at full speed. Behind her, Force-driven winds were sucking away the fires caused by the detonators and Palpatine was laughing maniacally.

The three women didn’t hesitate, falling in around Ahsoka as all four of them ran, the ch’hala trees frantically cycling through colors in response to the sounds of their pounding feet.

She had to get to Anakin before it was too late.

 

***

 

“Ahsoka Tano is now an enemy of the Republic,” Chancellor Palpatine said sadly, one hand resting on Anakin’s arm. The kindly man looked exhausted and injured, wincing as he tried to hide the extent of his injuries from the Jedi Knight. “I know how much you cared for her, but she has clearly turned to the side of our enemies.”

There was a roaring in Anakin’s ears, a sense of numb unreality.

_Ahsoka Tano, a former Jedi, has betrayed the Republic and joined the ranks of the Separatists. Earlier this morning she was the mastermind behind an attempt to assassinate the Chancellor. This attack failed. All citizens are urged to watch for a young Togruta female and to report any Togrutans to the authorities immediately in the belief that they may be hiding her from justice._

The HoloNews report played over and over. Ahsoka should have been on Mandalore.

“No,” he snapped, ignoring the Chancellor’s arched eyebrow. “Ahsoka would never do this. I know her.”

Padmé was frantic over the disappearance of three of her handmaidens.

Obi-Wan was out of contact, engaging Grevious even as they spoke. Only a faint sense of his presence came to Anakin across their bond; the knowledge that somewhere he was still alive.

“My dear boy,” the Chancellor said regretfully. “I am truly sorry, but it was Ahsoka Tano who tried to kill me last night. Surely you don’t think I would lie about such a thing?”

Anakin shook his head. “No, of course not Chancellor. I would never think that.”

There had to be some mistake. If he could just find her…

“I have ordered the clones to eliminate her on sight,” Anakin’s friend continued. “You are like a son to me, Anakin, but she is too dangerous to leave alive. You understand that, don’t you.” He reached out to take Anakin’s arm, seeming not to notice the pounding of Anakin’s heart, the roaring in his ears, the throbbing in his head. “Walk with me.”

_I would never let anyone hurt you, Ahsoka. Never!_ the memory of his past-self promised all those months ago. She hadn’t believed him then, hadn’t trusted he would believe her innocent of the crimes she was accused of.

Perhaps she had been right to doubt him for he wasn’t so sure he believed her innocent now. Why would the Chancellor lie to him? Palpatine was leading them to victory. He had always had Anakin’s best interests at heart. What reason would he have to lie?

“Now what is it you wanted to tell me, my boy?”

Anakin wrenched his mind back to the present. Back to what the Order had asked him to do. Once more he felt sick at having to deceive his friend this way.

“Chancellor,” he said formally, “we’ve just received a report from Master Kenobi. He has engaged General Grievous.”

Palpatine looked at him sadly. “I can only hope Master Kenobi is up to the challenge.” He sounded like he doubted that very much and it ate away at the guilt Anakin was feeling.

“I should be there with him,” he admitted. Obi-Wan was the best of all the Jedi, but Grievous was wily opponent and Anakin couldn’t, couldn’t, even contemplate losing his Master to him.

“It’s upsetting to me that the Council doesn’t fully appreciate your talents,” Palpatine continued, his voice sympathetic and Anakin felt his anger at those supposedly wise and good beings flare once more. Them and their stupid rules, their unwillingness to act when needed, their inability to save those who actually needed their help, their treatment of Ahsoka, their keeping Padmé away from him when he needed her most, their assigning Obi-Wan to all their most impossible tasks…

Palpatine continued to console him, telling him things Anakin already knew…about the Jedi Order’s secrecy, their mistrust and even fear of him…

“Let me help you know the subtleties of the Force,” the Chancellor counseled.

“How do you know the ways of the Force?” Anakin asked, genuinely surprised. He had never felt the Force flow around the Chancellor, never even suspected he could hear its currents.

The Chancellor smiled mysteriously. “My mentor taught me everything he knew about the Force,” the Chancellor admitted, watching Anakin carefully. “Even the nature of the Dark Side.”

Anakin felt a shiver of fear and unease make its way up his spine, even as the greater part of him was more cautious than afraid. It was as the Council had said then, what Obi-Wan had cautioned him about; the Chancellor was definitely not who he said he was.

Yet still Anakin could not believe the old man meant him harm. Palpatine was as calm and reassuring a presence as always. What’s more, he was a friend. Anakin had known him since he was a boy. Palpatine’s words came from far away. Anakin’s heart pounded irregularly, and he realized that he knew what Obi-Wan would do, what any other Jedi would do…but not what _he_ should do.

_…one must study all its aspects, not just the dogmatic, narrow view of the Jedi…_

_…you must embrace a larger view of the Force…_

Anakin circled him warily, trying to decide what to do. The Force was silent.

“Be careful of the Jedi, Anakin. Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi. Learn to know the Dark Side of the Force and you will be able to save your wife from certain death.”

Anakin saw Padmé’s tearful, pain-wracked face once more as she cried out for him in his nightmare, remembered his promise to her that he would one day become powerful enough to stop people from dying.

Padmé was the one person who would never leave him by choice. She was his, his! He needed her, he couldn’t go on without her. He would never let her die.

Fear filled him. “What did you say?” he demanded quietly. There was no way the Palpatine could know of his dreams.

“Use my knowledge, I beg you,” Palpatinte pleaded with him, looking frantic – not for himself but for _Anakin_ – even as Anakin ignited his lightsaber and pointed it at his friend.

“You’re the Sith Lord,” he accused, knowing already what he had to do and wondering why the galaxy was so cruel that it asked impossible duty after impossible duty of him, without ever giving anything back.

“Know the power of the Dark Side, Anakin,” Palpatine said gently, looking to sad for Anakin’s sake that all the Jedi Knight felt was confusion. “The power to save Padmé.”

Anakin went to get Mace Windu and the Jedi Council, even as his heart pounded and his stomach churned with fear and unease, and he had not the slightest idea what he was supposed to do.

He couldn’t trust any of them; not the Jedi, or Ahsoka, or Palpatine.

A part of him wanted to run, to leave it all behind and take Padmé and go find Obi-Wan and let the Council sort it out. But a larger part of him knew that only he could save his wife, that only he had the power to stop this unknown Sith Lord and end this war once and for all.

 

***

 

Anakin would never forget Mace Windu’s face as Anakin’s lightsaber took his arm clean off. The shock on the arrogant Jedi Master’s face was…satisfying.

Still, it was not a killing blow. A Jedi Master of Windu’s skill would undoubtedly survive even the loss of his arm and the fall from such a height.

Anakin’s vision was red, and everything seemed so far away. All he knew was that there were dead Jedi around him and Palpatine could save Padmé. He had to save Padmé. She was all that mattered. He would do anything for her. He wouldn’t lose her like he had lost his mother; he would make up for his weakness then, his inability to protect her, by saving her now…by saving _Padmé_ now.

He stumbled backwards, fell onto his knees and swallowed back the nausea that threatened to empty his stomach at the Sith Lord’s feet.

“You’re fulfilling your destiny, Anakin,” Palpatine rasped, looking hideous and deformed after his fight with Master Windu. “Become my apprentice. Learn to use the Dark Side of the Force.”

“I will do whatever you ask,” Anakin choked out.”

“Good,” crowed the Sith Lorder, and Anakin felt even sicker. His head spun, and it didn’t even feel like he was actually here, kneeling before a monster.

“Just help me save Padmé’s life,” he begged. “I can’t live without her.” And Padmé’s face morphed with that of Shmi, broken and ravaged beyond all repair as she slipped away even as he held her in his arms. “I pledge myself to your teachings,” he promised, and he felt his heart crack in two, the bond he shared with Obi-Wan screaming in agony as he began to tear it apart, piece by piece.

It had to be done. Obi-Wan would understand. He had to understand. Anakin couldn’t let her die. Not again.

Palpatine’s glee filled the Force around them, sickening and filled with malevolence. “Good,” he murmured, voice so different from the kindly man Anakin had always known. “The Force is strong with you. A powerful Sith you will become. Henceforth,” he pronounced, “you shall be known as Darth Vader.”

And the Sith Lord laughed.

There was a sudden snap-hiss of a lightsaber behind them. And then, like a sudden miracle, several more of them. Anakin was on his feet in a second, his own lightsaber held, unlit, in his mechanical hand as he stood protectively in front of the Chancellor.

The Sith Lord.

Battlemaster Cin Drallig stood there, his eyes cold as he watched Anakin and Palpatine. His former apprentice, Serra Keto, stood at his shoulder. Master Jocasta Nu, formally on the Jedi Council, stood next to him, holding a lightsaber Anakin had no idea she still knew how to wield. And next to her, elegant features twisted in distress and firm resolve, stood Master Shaak Ti.

Troopers from the 501stand Mace Windu’s 187thfiled in after them. Senator Bail Organa, surrounded by his personal aides, Senator Mon Mothma, and what looked like all of Padmé’s handmaidens stood just behind the Jedi.

“General Skywalker?” Lieutenant Appo said, sounding shocked at this presence here. Anakin barely spared him a glance.

“Anakin Skywalker,” came the strident tones of Master Nu, taking Anakin instantly back to the one time during his Padawan years when he had actually been in trouble with Master Nu. She looked disappointed in him. And she looked angry. “You misguided fool,” she said, and there was pity mixed in with her anger.

“Step aside, young Skywalker, and let us deal with the Sith Lord,” Cin Drallig commanded.

But Anakin only had eyes for the handmaidens. “Where’s Padmé?” he demanded, furious. She would never be involved with this. Never.

“Senator Amidala is currently safe at the Jedi Temple, where Master Che has assured us that she, and the children she carries, are perfectly alright,” Master Ti said softly, looking first at Anakin and then at Palpatine with a speculative look in her clear purple eyes. “It was young Ahsoka who told us that Palpatine sought to lure you to the Dark Side.” Her eyes flickered back to Anakin. “He tried to kill her last night.”

Anakin felt fury at their lies.

“Ahsoka tried to kill the Chancellor! She shouldn’t have even been here!” Anakin shouted at them, noticing for the first time that there were other Senators filing into the room with Organa and Mothma. Ahsoka’s friend, Lux Bonteri of Onderon, among them.

Bail Organa strode forward now, and Anakin realized he had never liked the man. “Chancellor Palpatine,” the Viceroy of Alderaan spoke, quietly but filled with command. “You are hereby relieved of your office due to crimes against the Republic. My fellow Senators and I have nominated Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo to take your place as interim-Chancellor until an emergency session of the Senate can be convened.” His gaze flicked momentarily to Anakin then, for the first time looking uncertain. “We suggest you come quietly.” He looked back at Palpatine and his gaze hardened. “Whatever game you’re playing…it’s over.”

Palpatine snarled from behind Anakin. “We will see,” he warned, and Anakin could feel his wish, his command, in his brain for them to move slowly over to the Chancellor’s desk. He took a slow slide in that direction.

“Step aside, Knight Skywalker,” Cin Drallig said, his lightsaber moving to the beginning stance of his Form. Serra Keto ignited the other end of her lightsaber, the duel wielding blue weapon twirling around her as her sharp eyes watched both Anakin and Palpatine for sudden moves. “And let us deal with the Sith.”

“No!” Anakin cried, holding his blade between the Jedi and the man who would teach him to save Padmé.

The handmaidens, who wore Padmé’s face or who looked close enough to be her sisters, tracked him with their blasters and he felt rage fill him.

He lifted a hand, Force-shoving the lot of them back. The Jedi raised their own hands and remained firm, but those interfering Senators and those traitorous women fell backwards onto the floor. Anakin forgot his orders from the Chancellor and strode forward. “What have you done to Padmé?” he screamed. “What lies have you told her?”

The Jedi started towards him and Jocastu Nu’s blade met his. Anakin snarled in her face, frantic to get to Padmé, to protect the Chancellor. It was all falling apart.

“I see it all now,” the old woman said calmly, parrying his strikes with ease. Cin Drallig and Serra Keto went for Palpatine, who drew his own lightsaber and laughed as he fought them. Shaak Ti hovered between Anakin and Palpatine, waiting for the opportune moment.

“Palpatine was the Sith Lord we could not find,” Nu continued, withered old voice wavering from age and not from fear. Anakin would show her fear.

“Master Obi-Wan was right,” she said, almost snarling as she dived out of the way of his blade, rolled and came up on his undefended side. At the sound of Obi-Wan’s name Anakin couldn’t help the start which ran through him.

_If Obi-Wan was here…Force, he wished Obi-Wan was here._

“You, our great hope for the Force, were his target. He has taken you and made you his. Twisted you into someone… _something_ else. He is trying to immerse you in the Dark Side as quickly as possible so that you will never find your way out! You are his tool,” she declared, as she stepped back, breathing hard, and Shaak Ti moved in to take her place.

“But it is not too late,” Nu stated with certainty.

“Come back, Anakin Skywalker,” Master Ti said calmly, meeting his wild strikes with her perfect Soresu. She looked like Ahsoka and fought like Obi-Wan and Anakin couldn’t stand it.

“It is too late,” he assured them, as red-armored, electrostaff-wielding guards poured through the door leading to the hallway and Palpatine seared off Cin Drallig’s arm, ducking Keto’s kick and diving towards his desk. Drallig dropped to the ground with a cry, rolling until he found his lightsaber with his remaining hand, and Keto was already re-grouping and diving towards the Chancellor, but a bolt of lightning took her square in the chest and she fell back to the ground and was still.

Several Senators, the handmaidens and the clone troopers opened fire, but the red-armored warriors in the doorway appeared to be Force sensitive. The avoided the blasted, or absorbed them on their staffs, and as Shaak Ti moved towards them to intercept, Anakin felt Palpatine’s triumph and he knew the Jedi would be too late.

The Chancellor withdrew a transmitter, an image of a clone commander – Cody, Anakin realized with a start – appeared before him. “Commander,” Palpatine said, glancing up to where Appo and the others were taking cover behind columns. They could still hear him.

“Execute Order 66.”

And as Cody acknowledged and the 501stand 187thslowly turned their blasters towards the Jedi, Palpatine laughed…

…and Ahsoka jumped into the room through the broken window in the Chancellor’s office, green lightsaber already ignited, and cut the transmitter in half.

Palpatine’s lightsaber ignited in a seamless movement and he swung it towards her.

“No!” Anakin cried, lightsaber powering off and one hand outstretched – to do what he did not know – even as Ahsoka met the Chancellor’s strike, the blades crackling between them as they stared daggers at one another.

Then Ahsoka jumped clear, landing halfway between Anakin and Palpatine, her other blade igniting and pointing towards the former Jedi Knight. “Hello Master,” she greeted him calmly, but Anakin could feel the grief which ran through her, and the undercurrent of guilt as well, from their unbroken master-padawan bond.

Shaak Ti had one hand on Cin Drallig’s back and was helping him to stand up.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin said. His voice was choked, and he knew there were tears on his face. _Stars, his head hurt something fierce._ “Don’t make me destroy you,” he warned.

_For Padmé,_ he told himself desperately. _For the child. Children? What had the Jedi said?_

“I will not fight you, Master!” Ahsoka declared fiercely. Her eyes were clear, and her voice was filled with certainty.

Anakin’s heart felt torn in two as he met her tearful blue eyes. She was pleading with him silently. He felt her love, her trust in him, and it made him sick. He had promised to protect her…but he had sworn everything he had to Padmé first. She was his wife. She was _his_.

And Ahsoka was a Jedi. They were all liars, all corrupt. He remembered Master Windu’s shock as Anakin sliced through his arm. He had never expected Anakin to betray him.

He should have.

_I’ve come too far to turn back now_ , he realized. _I’ve made my choice._

He powered on his lightsaber, its blue blade casting ghostly shadows in the dark lighting of the Chancellor’s office.

“Then you will die,” he promised his former Padawan as he started forward. The red descended once more across his vision. He would not stop this time.

“Anakin!”

A male voice with a lilting, core-world accent. A voice more familiar to Anakin than any other.

“Step away from her.”

Anakin turned slowly, as though in a dream. It couldn’t be.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood in the doorway to the Chancellor’s office, eyes like grey shards of ice. Mace Windu, sickly-looking and limping, but eyes hot coals of controlled rage, stood just behind him.

Ahsoka shot Obi-Wan a relieved smile, that looked like she wanted it to be a cocky grin but couldn’t quite manage it. “Good timing, Master!”

Obi-Wan never took his eyes away from Anakin. “I do my best, little one,” he said softly. He moved up to stand next to Ahsoka. “Good evening, Chancellor,” he offered, politely.

Anakin heard Palpatine speak but the words flew right over him. All he could see was the coldness in those eyes, and the stern, resolute expression on Obi-Wan’s face.

“Master,” he croaked and Obi-Wan flinched, a flare of pain so intense going through their mostly-severed bond that Anakin gasped.

“Apparently not,” Obi-Wan said, his voice as cold as his eyes.

Anakin’s ire flashed once more, and he raised his chin to meet that intense gaze head on. “I have seen through the lies of the Jedi, my Master,” he promised, slowly beginning to circle Obi-Wan. Ahsoka stepped back, her lightsabers powered down in her hands but her eyes darting between Anakin and Obi-Wan.

Anakin’s master dropped his cloak in that characteristically dramatic way he had, which never failed to impress him when he was a boy, and which had starred in quite a few of his more pleasant dreams as he grew older.

For a moment he was distracted, eyes travelling up Obi-Wan’s familiar form, watching his graceful steps as the Jedi Master kept pace with him. Distantly he was aware of Windu, Shaak Ti, Drallig and Keto going for the Chancellor once more.

But with three of the Jedi already injured, Anakin didn’t foresee any difficulties.

Besides, he couldn’t look away from Obi-Wan. His Master kept pace with him perfectly. They drew their lightsabers as one, so completely in sync even after…everything…that Anakin wanted to weep.

He pushed aside the bone-deep relief he felt at Obi-Wan’s presence and concentrated on his rage, on Padmé’s fear and pain flowing into the Force in his dream, on his ever-growing sense of confusion and loss as this war raged on.

“I’ve seen through the lies of the Jedi,” Anakin spat at his Master. “You will not take her from me!”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer. For the first time he looked away from Anakin, as they all felt Cin Drallig die on Palpatine’s blade. Serra Keto was speared by his backstroke and Mace Windu only spared by the quick thinking of Master Ti.

Obi-Wan looked back at Anakin and there was nothing there in his eyes now but duty. “Your own actions have already done that,” he said, and ignited his blade. “I will do what I must,” he promised, quiet but utterly resolute.

Anakin ignited his own blade. “You will try,” he promised darkly.

“Master, please!” Ahsoka cried, her lightsabers held up as though she wanted to ignite them, but utterly incapable of doing so. Anakin wavered at the pain in her voice.

The blaster fire from the next room was slowly diminishing and whoever was left, whoever had won, would join them soon. Obi-Wan, Anakin and Ahsoka all ducked as a powerful Force shove threw Master Ti across the room where she hit the wall hard enough that she crumpled to the ground and did not move again.

Obi-Wan and Anakin straightened, their eyes drawn to each other like magnets. Anakin readied himself for the opening moves of their dance.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. Just once. Quiet. His name. And it was the _love_ , the painful, all-consuming love with which Obi-Wan spoke his name that caused Anakin to tremble. That love had always been there, in every look, in every smile, in every touch.

Here, even at the end, Obi-Wan still loved him.

Anakin’s eyes closed, and he couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. If Obi-Wan reached over and struck him down, he wouldn’t have even raised his lightsaber.  

But the Jedi Master didn’t. Anakin felt him turn away, heard the clash of blades as Obi-Wan jumped over the decapitated Mace Windu, and met Palpatine’s blade with his own.

Ahsoka breathed in once, sharply, and then she was running past Anakin, her green and yellow-green blades igniting in her traditional reverse grip as she wove around Obi-Wan and attacked the Chancellor from his unprotected side.

Together, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka held off the Chancellor.

The Sith Lord.

Anakin’s eyes were open, and he watched those blades of red and blue and green and yellow flash. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were good, were extraordinary even – the finest the Temple had to offer – but Palpatine was better.

His lightsaber hummed in his metal head, there was shouting from the next room, the lights flickered in this dark, gloomy office and the wind whistled through the broken window, lifting Anakin’s sweat-damp hair and dancing through Obi-Wan’s copper locks as he ducked and wove around Palpatine.

The Sith Lord.

Anakin was…lost.

Bodies of dead Jedi covered the floor.

Padmé wasn’t here.

But Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were.

_We are not gods, Anakin._ Obi-Wan whispered from the past, hand on the shoulder of his thirteen-year-old Padawan, who hadn’t been able to save a…a friend, on Soccoro. _We can’t predict the future. No one can do that. So, we save who we can, and we bear the burden of continuing on._

_I wouldn’t be able to continue on without you, Master,_ his past-self protested fiercely, already certain that Obi-Wan Kenobi was the most important person in his life.

_You would be fine, Anakin,_ Obi-Wan assured him, voice holding slight amusement at what he always called Anakin’s innate sense of drama.

Anakin looked up into fond – slightly tired – blue-green eyes, fear desperately clawing at him as he tried to shake his head and impart to Obi-Wan that he would _not_ be fine.

Obi-Wan reached up then, softly brushing the hair back from Anakin’s flushed face as the boy closed his eyes at that gentleness in his Master’s touch. _And I would never really leave you, Anakin,_ that beloved voice promised _. Look to the Force and you will always find me._

And Anakin believed him.

A tear made its way down Anakin’s cheek, and even as Ahsoka cried out in pain he kept his eyes closed.

He kept his eyes closed and reached out to the Force. He didn’t ask anything from it; he just surrendered. The Force flowed through him and in him, tainted and corrupted where it touched…the Sith Lord…but brilliantly bright where it wrapped around Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. Anakin stretched out further. Bail Organa’s presence blazed just as brightly from the next room, and Anakin could feel others surrounding him, the echoing presences of the clones, the fierce presence of Sabé, Senator Mothma’s steely resolve.

He let himself sink deeper and surrendered entirely to the moment.

Past, present and future were one. He was Anakin. He was Obi-Wan. He was Shmi and Padmé and Ahsoka. He was Rex on Mandalore, and Master Yoda on Kashyyyk, and Master Qui-Gon who was one with the Force…

…and then the Force showed him Obi-Wan and Ahsoka fighting side-by-side against the darkness, the corruption of the Force, that was Palpatine.

Here, in this moment, they needed him.

Anakin opened his eyes. He knew what he had to do. He reached out to Obi-Wan in the Force, feeling the edges of their frayed bond, and almost wept with relief when Obi-Wan reached back. The Bond between them blazed like fire in the Force, burning away the last of Anakin’s doubt.

He moved to his place between his Master and his Padawan.

And joined the fight.

 

***

 

Afterwards they called it the Battle of the Heroes.

Which was the stupidest name ever, Anakin thought for the thousandth time, as he attempted to clear his mind and meditate under a drooping tree in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. His backside hurt, and tingles ran through his thighs and feet where his legs were falling asleep.

He still heated meditating. He opened his eyes a moment, watching the play of sunlight on water in the trickling stream before him, the dozens of hues of green which rippled across the grass and through the trees surrounding him when the wind blew. He listened to hundreds of species of birds as they called to one another.

Around him he could feel the bright Force presences of his fellow Jedi, calm and at peace. He closed his eyes again.

He had almost lost it all.

Afterwards, Ahsoka had told him that his eyes were still a sickly yellow when Palpatine fell. Obi-Wan had stood alone before the Sith Lord, Ahsoka too injured to continue and Anakin kneeling by her side. It had been Obi-Wan who had driven his lightsaber through the Sith Lord’s heart.

His Master had turned to him then, eyes travelling over the bodies of fallen comrades until they met Anakin’s. For a moment they stared at one another and perhaps that was when the yellow drained away. Or perhaps not. Anakin knew he would never be sure.

But something flickered across Obi-Wan’s cold, stern grey eyes, too fast for Anakin to know what it was. He hooked his lightsaber to his belt, stepped around Anakin to scoop Ahsoka into his arms, and then walked away.

He hadn’t looked back and that was the last time Anakin saw him.

It was aged Master Nu who helped him up and took him, stumbling and dazed but unhurt, back to the Temple where he had been confined, awaiting judgment.

Ahsoka visited him after she was healed a bit and told him the news; that Padmé had given birth to healthy twins, a boy and a girl. “Luke and Leia,” Ahsoka said their names were. Beautiful names. And Ahsoka already looked awestruck and excited, like a big sister or an aunt. “Obi-Wan stayed with her the entire time,” Ahsoka had confided, poking Anakin to get him to eat his midday meal while she lounged in her chair by his side and twirled her own food around her head with the Force. “They adore him already, of course, and he dotes on them.” She’d grinned. “It’s so cute,” she’d staged whispered, as though Obi-Wan might be hiding around the corner and hear her.

Anakin had nodded, not saying anything at all, just like he had every other time she’d visited. What was the point? He had already messed everything up.

But still his heart hammered at the knowledge that he had two beautiful, healthy children somewhere, and that Padmé was alive and well. And that Obi-Wan…

“Master Obi-Wan defended you to the Council,” Ahsoka said once, some weeks after everything was over.

Anakin had been staring listlessly out of his window, watch several Jedi spar in one of the outdoor training yards below. “He said your actions showed that you rejected the Dark Side...”

Anakin turned to look at her. She was so very grown up now, wise and brave and so much more compassionate than he could ever be. The Council had, unsurprisingly, officially made her a Jedi Knight and – surprisingly – she had accepted. Now, she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

She frowned as she stared over his shoulder at the wall. “…that you deserved another chance.  Just like Master Vos.”

Anakin turned listlessly away from her again. After a moment he cleared his throat and tried to speak. It had been so long since he last used it that it came out as a rough croak and made Ahsoka jump. “Obi-Wan wouldn’t let you in here if he thought I was a danger to you.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “I know that you wouldn’t…” she trailed off as Anakin stiffened, because he _had_ tried to hurt her.

Obi-Wan had just…stopped him before he could.

‘I’m sorry,’ was so trite-sounding for something that was unforgivable, but perhaps some of his remorse crossed the bond between them, for Ahsoka leaned over and hugged him hard before she ran from the room.

Padmé wanted a divorce.

Somehow, Anakin was both surprised and utterly un-surprised by this. He had thought she would never leave him but apparently attempted mass murder and the plot to destroy the Republic were enough to send any woman fleeing.

Anakin laughed long and hard when Padmé’s attorneys – all droids – brought him the paperwork. “The Chancellor is too busy to see you herself,” one of them, a female sounding one, had said. She was disapproving of him in a very un-droid-like way. Anakin signed all the paperwork and didn’t even ask if they would ever bring his children to see him. He already knew the answer and none of it even mattered…because Obi-Wan hadn’t come to see him.

Master Yoda, who was an almost-daily visitor, told him that Obi-Wan had been sent to Mandalore almost immediately after Palpatine’s defeat, to deal with Maul. And that he was currently on mop-up duty in the Outer Rim, where dozens of insurrections had sprung up even though Master Depa Billaba and her apprentice, Caleb Dume, had defeated Grievous and the Separatists had officially surrendered. Apparently, Obi-Wan had requested the Senate to allow the Separatist worlds to present a legal petition for leaving the Republic before the Senate.

It was only after Quinlan Vos came to see Anakin – a rough clap on the back, empathy in those deep, brown eyes and a “well, he’s about as alright as can be expected,” and a whispered, “Is Obi-Wan alright?” –  that he was free to walk about the Jedi Temple once more. Although not to leave its grounds.

Anakin got a lot of thinking done, a lot of self-reflection, as he wandered around the various gardens and pathways, through training rooms and classrooms and living areas. Everyone was polite and kind to him, but the hint of wariness in their eyes was hard to bear, no matter how much it was deserved.

At night he dreamed of the coldness in Obi-Wan’s eyes, the raw pain in his voice as he said Anakin’s name, and he wept until he was aching inside.

Sometimes, as the months passed, he dreamed other things. He listened to Obi-Wan’s beloved voice whispering sweat words to him when he thought he was asleep, the laughter in his voice as Anakin pulled another crazy stunt and Obi-Wan tried to look stern, the rough, want in those usually-refines tones as he told Anakin he needed him, desired him, wanted him like no other.

He watched Obi-Wan’s eyes change from blue-grey to deep, sea-green as they met Anakin’s gaze, the light flush on his cheeks, those lips parted as Anakin leaned that last little inch to capture them in his own.

He felt the warmth of his Master’s presence, that particular warmth which seemed to be exclusively Obi-Wan’s, and the touch of his fingers as they skated down Anakin’s bare skin, felt the flutters in his stomach at the knowledge that all that power and control his Master wielded so effortlessly, so unconsciously, was focused entirely on Anakin.

Those dreams were sometimes even harder to bear – the knowledge that he had had all that, or almost had it, and had thrown it away like garbage for the whispering nothings of a madman.

Padmé finally came when the twins were six months old. Anakin was surprised at her appearance, the fall of her dark hair, the slightness of her figure, the unfamiliar twist of her lips. She had become almost a dream herself since he had last seen her.

He stood away from his workbench, where he was making upgrades to Artoo’s mechanical arm, and powered off his tools at her entrance, but he had no idea how else to act towards her. He still thought her beautiful, an angel, but it was like meeting a stranger.

Padmé seemed to share his unease. “Anakin,” she said quietly, and then trailed off.

Behind her, four of her handmaidens filed into the room. Two of them watched Anakin carefully – no doubt to make sure he didn’t randomly decide to descend into the Dark Side once more and attack their lady – while two others carried Anakin’s children.

His breath caught, and then he was moving forwards, ignoring the hands on blaster hilts and Padmé’s quickly raised hand to hover over the two most perfect beings he had ever had the chance to see.

Blue eyes and brown gazed up at him, wide and wondering, out of round, cherubic faces. Tiny fists waved fitfully before the little, brown-eyed one – his daughter, _Leia_ – suddenly wrinkled her face up, opened her mouth, and began bawling.

Anakin took an alarmed step back, hearing Padmé’s delighted, musical laughter from far away as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong.

Leia waved her fists at him and he had the strangest feeling she was telling him off.

The handmaiden holding her smothered a smile. After a moment, Anakin reached over and smoothed gentle fingers over his daughter’s cheek, reaching out to soothe her in the Force.

_I will never hurt you, little one_ , he promised her silently, heart sick with dread and regret and painful hope.

She quieted a little, until the handmaiden reached over and placed the fussy baby directly into his arms.

Anakin looked up, wide-eyed and alarmed once more, to find five amused faces – six, including Ahsoka hovering behind them all and grinning from ear to ear – and the curious gaze of the other baby, who was much more well-behaved, Anakin was slightly disgruntled to note.

He looked down in surprise when Leia stopped crying abruptly. Dark brown eyes studied his face curiously as he cradled her gingerly in his arms. At last, after an inspection of almost a minute – during which Anakin didn’t dare look away – she seemed satisfied. Closing her eyes, she settled into a light sleep.

Anakin watched her, awestruck, for several seconds before he breathed, “She’s perfect.” He looked over a little Luke, with his eyes as sky-blue as Anakin’s own. “They both are.”

“I know,” Padmé agreed quietly. “It’s hard to believe we made something so wonderful.”

Anakin looked up at her then and watched as she shifted from Padmé to Chancellor Amidala once more.

“I have a mission for you, Jedi Skywalker,” the Chancellor said, and Anakin straightened up unconsciously. Fear spiked through him and only Leia’s bright, contented presence in his arms, Luke’s little humming noises in Dormé’s, and Ahsoka’s watchful gaze kept the fear from overwhelming him.

“You’re sending me away? Now?”

All he could think of was that he hadn’t even seen Obi-Wan, and he had only just _met_ his children…

Padmé was shaking her head. “Not forever. Do you remember Thrawn?” she asked him and the sudden change in topic was enough to snap Anakin out of his panic.

He clutched Leia tighter to him and frowned at her. “Yes,” he said cautiously.

Padmé bit her lip and studied his face. “I think it’s time we send an Ambassador to the Chiss Ascendency. Offer them the friendship and alliance of the Republic. So, I’m sending Master Kenobi, and Knight Tano. And I want you to go with them.”

Anakin felt like the very floor had dropped out from under him. Padmé’s eyes were kind and knowing and he didn’t deserve any of it.

“The 501stand 212thwill go with you, of course,” the Chancellor continued lightly, now sounding faintly amused. “I feel it only right that the Republic’s two greatest heroes be the ones to reach out to the Chiss now that the Clone Wars have ended.”

“You’re giving me a mission?” Anakin asked her, incredulously. _After what I almost did? Did do?_ he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud. He looked down at Leia in his arms and then back up in to his ex-wife. “What about the children?”

Padmé gazed at the twins with adoration. “They will train as Jedi one day,” she promised him, “and I’ll send them to you and Obi-Wan when the time is right.”

She waved her hand and the handmaidens filed out of the room, taking Luke and Ahsoka with then, though Anakin refused to relinquish Leia.

Anakin felt himself torn in two once more – between staying here with his children or following Obi-Wan and Ahsoka into whatever adventure they found – and he looked up at Padmé with an unasked question in his eyes.

Padmé smiled. “He’s waiting for you Anakin, and Luke and Leia will be waiting for you when you get back.”

Anakin’s heart gave a traitorous jump at the thought that maybe she was right, that maybe Obi-Wan still loved him and was waiting for him.

He scowled and shook his head stubbornly.

“Anakin,” she said gently. “You have loved that man since you were 9-years-old. And he loves you. Anyone can see that.” She took a deep breath and looked rueful. “And what’s more, you make each better…you _balance_ each other…in a way we never could.” She reached over and placed a delicate hand on his arm. “It was a dream, Anakin. What we had. It wasn’t the truth.” Her lips quirked up and she looked as mischievous as a girl. “And besides, the whole time we were together you were really married to Obi-Wan, you just didn’t know it.”

“I was not!” _How could she even think that?_

Padmé snorted. “No? Everyone in the Republic agrees with me,” she said airily, taking Leia from his arms and opening the door to his room. She paused at the entrance to flash him a bright smile. “Just ask your Padawan?” she teased, the door closing behind her, and Anakin knew they were going to be just fine, one way or another.

“Ahsoka!” he yelled.

 

***

 

The quiet hum of the idling Republic cruiser washed around Anakin and it felt like coming home. Clones, new and familiar, passed him going about their duties with a smile or a nod or a ‘General Skywalker.’

Ahsoka walked by his side, almost as tall as him now, her lightsabers at her belt where they had always belonged and her headtails now almost reaching to the small of her back.

“When did you get so tall?” he grumbled, heart pounding with fear and anticipation and hope.

“When did you get so short?” Ahsoka shot back cheekily, and Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Well, I hope you’ve learned something from all this,” he continued after a moment, trying to sound cocky and making light of some truly horrible past mistakes in an effort to take his mind off the fact that around the next corner, or the next, Obi-Wan was waiting.

“What? Do as I say and not as I do?” Ahsoka returned, sounding more amused than the situation really warranted. He’d obviously been a bad influence on her.

He turned and found his former Padawan grinning like a shark. “Oh, believe me I have,” she said. “I’m only listening to Master Obi-Wan from now on.”

“Hey!”

She fell back half a pace when the bulkhead doors leading to the bridge loomed into view. Anakin spent a long moment staring at the industrial grey durasteel, listening to the muted hum of voices on the other side. He could feel Obi-Wan’s presence.

He took a deep breath, pressed the release, and strode down the walkway.

Obi-Wan stood at the end, arms folded and staring out the viewports as the last of their preparations for departure were completed. He was armored, lightsaber at his waist, and his bright, copper hair had been newly trimmed and hung exactingly around his face. He looked very proper and Anakin swallowed against the sudden, insane impulse to cross the distance between them and thoroughly ruin his Master’s fastidious appearance with hands running through that perfect hair and lips brushing over smooth skin.

He firmly told himself to relax. They had so much to talk about, to work out, before Anakin could contemplate asking Obi-Wan if a kiss would even be welcome.

Logically speaking, Obi-Wan should be in more of a mood to stab him with his lightsaber than kiss him.

The Jedi Master turned, blue eyes met blue and Anakin forgot how to breath.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were warm and welcoming, his lips curled in a light smirk as he turned to face Anakin fully. “Well, hello there, Anakin. I wondered when you would finally get around to joining us.”

Anakin couldn’t look away, utterly entranced. Obi-Wan stood there, calm and in control, powerful and blinding in the Force, and _Anakin’s_. He was smiling at Anakin, teasing him, sure he would come…

Fuck it, he’s never been any good at waiting anyway.

He strode forward, down the walkway, Obi-Wan dropping his arms and arching an eyebrow as he came and fuck, that’s the last straw.

Anakin sweeps Obi-Wan up into his arms without the slightest hesitation or warning, their faces inches apart, and then he freezes, unable to cross that last little divide. Aware of the sudden hush across the entire bridge, he can’t make himself move and the only sounds are the beeping of the monitors and Ahsoka’s stiffled gasp.

“And what, exactly, are you going to do now, Anakin?” Obi-Wan murmurs lightly, warm breath ghosting over Anakin’s lips and sounding one-part amused, one-part…breathless.

Anakin’s heart is pounding too loudly in his chest, his head is spinning from Obi-Wan’s scent and nearness, and the tongues of soft flame which slide down his body, a pool of warmth and desire, from Obi-Wan’s presence, his nearness, and which Anakin could easily drown in.

With a quiet moan he crosses the remaining distance between them and presses his lips against Obi-Wan’s.

Obi-Wan’s mouth falls open with a sigh of relief and he immediately draws Anakin closer, their tongues tangling as Obi-Wan deepens the kiss instantly, frantically, almost rough.

Anakin moans into the kiss, his mind reaching out towards Obi-Wan, their Bond bursting wide open and true as the surge of their emotions echoes over and over between them – desperation, excitement, love, aching need, desire, longing, home – and the kiss gentles and deepens at the same time.

There are wolf-whistles and calls of encouragement from the troops, Ahsoka’s joyful ‘whoop’, and Cody’s yell of “Finally! You owe me 50 credits, Rex!”

Anakin doesn’t hear any of it.

All he knows is that he has Obi-Wan at last, that he’s never letting him go, that he’s finally where he is supposed to be, and as the stars lengthen around them into the endless possibilities of hyperspace, the future is alive with hope.

 

^^^^^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the tense changes at the end. It was done to create immediacy and to bring the reader into the moment, although I know it annoys some people, lol. 
> 
> As Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon in “From a Certain Point of View,” Anakin made a choice to fall to the Dark Side. And in this chapter, he makes a different choice. A better choice. Even though the actions of those around him changed somewhat, it was at the end of the day, still his choice which determined his fate.
> 
> Obi-Wan can sense that Padmé carried twins this time around because the Force is still so much lighter than it was after the Temple was destroyed, the Jedi killed in Order 66 and he learned that Anakin fell to the dark side. He, and the Force, are in a much better place. And of course, he completely adores them this time around too. 
> 
> Obi-Wan had Depa Billaba cover him at Utapau. She was on alert from him for anything unusual so when Cody heard the Order 66 command, she just disarmed him and then began removing all the chips from the clones.
> 
> I enjoyed writing Padmé’s brief interaction with her handmaiden, and their assisting Ahsoka later on, and I really would like to read a story just about Padmé’s relationships with all her handmaidens and the different missions they go on. Also, Padmé knows more about the Jedi than any other non-Jedi in the Prequel Era, so I thought her understanding how war is dangerous for Jedi, especially someone as powerful and volatile as Anakin, fit with canon.
> 
> I tried writing the confrontation with Sidious to include just Anakin and Ahsoka – with Ahsoka taking on some of Luke’s lines from Return of the Jedi – but Obi-Wan kept inserting himself earlier and earlier into the narrative, so I just went with it after a while. Of course, Obi-Wan inserted himself so soon because he knows how to make an entrance and Sith Lords are his specialty. Lol. 
> 
> If you recognize a quote or an echo of a quote from either canon or fanfiction, the odds are that I took it from there, so all rights and thanks to the original owners. I’m not at all sure how well this – extra-long – chapter fits in with the rest of the story (which was supposed to be light and fluffy with only minor angst) but…well, just let me know what you think.
> 
> Chancellor Amidala sends Obi-Wan, Anakin and Ahsoka to help Thrawn deal with the threat from the Unknown Regions. I think that would be really cool and fun alternate timeline. 
> 
> So, a happy ending AU for all those who asked me for one. Much longer than planned, but Anakin and his Dark Side issues made it necessary. Stay tuned for a canon compliant ending for those who want that instead, or as well!


	23. Vor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin wakes up in the Halls of Healing. He remembers the duel with Dooku and the loss of his arm, but most of all he remembers Obi-Wan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m glad many of you liked the AU ending. Now, on to my original ending for this story. There will be slightly more angst, but still lots of fluff so no fears if you want to take a chance and continue reading. This chapter takes place at the beginning again. Anakin is 19-years-old and just lost his arm in the first Battle of Geonosis.

vor

(before)

 

Anakin felt like he was clawing his way upwards through darkness and smoke, dense fog and the murky depths of the ocean. Anger and fear filled him and he just…couldn’t…seem…to find…his way…out!

With a gasp he opened his eyes, heart hammering and fists clenched tightly together. Or rather…fist. His right hand didn’t seem to be working correctly. He glanced down – tunic not his own, bed not his own, strange lighting…metal where his arm should be – and then, before he could cry out in terror, the memories returned.

Count Dooku – Qui-Gon Jinn’s old Master, one of the greatest Jedi to ever walk the halls of the Jedi Temple – had turned to the Dark Side. He was leading an army of droids and he had killed… Jedi! So many Jedi. It should have been impossible.

And Obi-Wan! He had almost killed Obi-Wan.

He would have, if Anakin had been a second slower.

Guilt and shame gnawed at him then. The fallen Jedi never would have gotten a chance at Anakin’s Master if Anakin had followed the plan. He had just been…so angry. So afraid that his anger would overpower him again as it had on Tatooine. And he couldn’t take that chance. Not with Obi-Wan. Better a dead Padawan than that Obi-Wan should have had to face both Anakin and Dooku.

And better an arm missing than Obi-Wan dead, killed before his very eyes and leaving Anakin behind.

Anakin swallowed heavily.  _Force, what a mess._

Something shifted beside him, warmth he hadn’t realized was pressed against his side moving a bit while a voice mumbled, “Anakin?”

Anakin started and finally looked over to his right, next to where his arm…had been.

Obi-Wan was there, stretched out on the narrow bed beside Anakin, and mostly asleep. He looked terrible. His tunic was still the same one he had been wearing on Geonosis, burned and sweat-stained and dirty. His hair was unkempt – something his Master never let happen if he could help it – and his face was drawn, dark shadows like bruises under his eyes. He obviously hadn’t slept, or even left Anakin’s side to wash up since Anakin had been rushed home to the Temple..

Anakin distantly remembered the shock of losing the limb, the feel of Obi-Wan’s leg pillowing his head, Padmé’s warm hug, Obi-Wan’s quick breathing and firm shoulder as he helped Anakin stumble into the waiting transport.

Then everything began to go fuzzy. Pain killers, he supposed. He remembered faces, blurry and indistinct except for Obi-Wan’s, and the sensation of thousands of needles stabbing him at once. He remembered equipment shattering around him as he obviously lost control. He remembered hurling accusations and hurtful words at his Master, and Obi-Wan’s fingers stroking his tear-streaked cheeks, their foreheads pressed together as Obi-Wan begged him to breathe slowly, to be calm, promised him it would be alright.

Mostly what he remembered was the feel of Obi-Wan’s presence surrounding him, as warm as a hug, while they fitted the prothesis on him.

Anakin looked down now. Obi-Wan was curled on his side, facing Anakin, the tips of his right fingers resting lightly on Anakin’s new metal arm.

Anakin’s breath caught. He knew how Obi-Wan generally felt about machines – how most Jedi felt slightly uncomfortable with them because the Force didn’t flow through them – and here his Master was touching it. Touching him. Not seeming to care in the slightest.

Obi-Wan was frowning in his sleep, eyelids fighting wearily to open, and Anakin realized he hadn’t answered his Master’s concerned question. “I’m alright, Master. Go back to sleep,” he said hurriedly, and watched in relief as Obi-Wan sighed and his face relaxed again.

Anakin took several deep breaths and ruthlessly brought his errant emotions somewhat back under control. He wouldn’t be the reason that Obi-Wan couldn’t rest even now. The bond between them was so much stronger than he had ever seen between even other Master and Padawan pairs that he knew Obi-Wan could monitor his stress level even while unconscious.

His Master was annoyingly efficient like that.

Anakin felt a rueful smile tug at his lips. It had saved their lives many times while on missions for the Jedi, and frankly he wouldn’t have it any other way. Although it had proved embarrassing a time or two when…well, best not to think about that now.

Besides, Anakin wasn’t sure what he would do without that familiar presence in his mind. Wasn’t sure he would remember what it felt like to not feel Obi-Wan. No matter how far apart they were, Anakin could always tell that his Master was alive, and undoubtedly causing trouble in his wake.

His smile turned into a real one and he reached out to unconsciously brush an errant strand of hair out of Obi-Wan’s face.

“Ah, young Master Skywalker,” came the gravelly voice of Master Yoda.

Anakin quickly jerked his hand back and turned to look over the edge of the bed on his other side. The diminutive Grand Master stood there, leaning on his gimmer stick and looking far too amused for his own good. He looked weary as well, and Anakin could feel his relief in the Force.

“Master Yoda,” he said, voice hoarse. Probably from the screaming. He winced. “I wasn’t…too horrible, was I?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but he also wanted to be prepared when Obi-Wan woke up.

He never wanted…he couldn’t hurt his Master. And if he had…

Master Yoda watched him carefully. “In pain you were, young Skywalker. Strong is your connection to the Force. Hard for you to be severed from it, it was.” He shook his head. “Nothing to fear have you. Your Master knows this very well.”

Anakin took a shaky breath and nodded his thanks.

“Glad am I to see you awake once more. Worried we were. Rest and recovery should be your priority now.” He gave Anakin a small smile, strange to see on that wrinkly old face but filled with kindness, and Anakin realized with a start that Master Yoda actually liked him. He had always thought it was just Obi-Wan the Jedi Grand Master felt a fondness for.

Touched, Anakin felt warmth flow through him…quickly followed by shame. If Yoda knew what he had done –

The aged Jedi Master frowned. “Anything you wish to share from your ordeal, young Skywalker?” he asked, and Anakin glanced down at Obi-Wan, cold dread curling through him without his permission.

 _If Yoda knew – if any of the Jedi ever found out – what he had done to those Tuskens_ …his left hand clutched tightly to Obi-Wan’s tunic.

They would kick him out of the Order before you could say ‘stang,’ and Obi-Wan would face this war, those droids, the _Sith_ alone. Anakin couldn’t allow that…

…he would just have to be _better_.

He shook his head. “No Master Yoda.” The Jedi Master didn’t look convinced and Anakin decided to go with part of the truth. “I’m just not sure now, with this injury, that I’ll be able to protect my Master anymore.”

“Additional training you will need to reach what you once were,” Yoda admitted, “but capable of taking care of himself, Obi-Wan is.”

Anakin almost snorted. Master Obi-Wan wouldn’t even manage to keep himself properly fed without Anakin around. Sometimes Anakin thought his Master had less self-preservation instincts than he did. “It’s the job of a Padawan to protect his Jedi Master,” he insisted, and Yoda almost smiled.

“Glad Obi-Wan would be to hear that he still needs your protection, young Skywalker.” He reached up and patted Anakin gently on the shoulder. “Plenty of time there is for you and Obi-Wan to learn to fight together once more. For now, rest you both should.”

And with that, the Grand Master of the Jedi Order slowly walked away.

Anakin watched him go, studied the sun-beams which shone through the high-set windows, felt the air flow around him, sweet and clean, and heard the trickling of waterfalls from the Room of a Thousand Fountains; which was situated right next door so that the peaceful sounds and sights of nature could be brought to the patients within the Halls. The Halls of Healing were spacious and vast, tall white columns spiraling above him in a way that seemed to flow like water.

A murmuring of voices from one part of the Halls came to him distantly. Anakin had been here many times – as had Obi-Wan, for all that he tried to avoid it like the plague – and he knew that he would be here many more times before this upcoming war was over.

It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the quietly sleeping man next to him.

Anakin looked down at his master, took in the worried lines indenting his forehead even in repose. Carefully he smoothed them out with the fingers of his left hand.

Obi-Wan’s fingers still rested on Anakin’s metal arm, and his body was angled to press against Anakin’s side. His Master would never leave him alone. Not when Anakin needed him.

And to be honest, Anakin always needed him.

Anakin ran his fingers down from Obi-Wan’s forehead, skating over smooth skin to brush across Obi-Wan’s soft, prickly beard – he loved that beard, it made his Master look so distinguished – and across his lips.

Obi-Wan’s lips parted slightly in soft exhalation as he slept.

Anakin lay down on his side, moving as close to his Master as he dared. He ran his fingers up Obi-Wan’s right arm, up over his shoulder, before he clasped the back of his Master’s neck and carded through the soft hair there.

He watched the play of sunlight over his Master’s red-gold locks. Obi-Wan was getting older now and he claimed that the few grey hairs he had acquired were entirely Anakin’s fault.

Probably true.

Anakin leaned closer, his nose almost brushing Obi-Wan’s, as he studied the delicate, almost-blue skin of Obi-Wan’s eyelids, the crow’s feet at the corner, the beauty mark on his forehead, the long, copper lashes. Obi-Wan’s breath was warm as he exhaled deeply and evenly, and he smelled faintly of his favorite tea. His Force presence, warm and golden, undulated over and around Anakin’s own like the gentle waves of the sea, like yin and yang.

“Anakin,” he murmured again, and Anakin couldn’t have stopped himself for anything.

Helplessly, as gently and quietly as he could, he leaned forward and brushed his lips softly, achingly over Obi-Wan’s.

Obi-Wan’s lips were red and plump, dry and slightly rough, and so warm and perfect that Anakin’s breath caught. When he had kissed Padmé, that first time on Naboo, it had felt like a dream, like all his fantasies come true. With Obi-Wan, he had never felt more alive, his blood singing in his veins, his heart pounding, warmth and arousal burning through him, and caught somewhere between terror and elation.

He tried to draw back, desperately afraid Obi-Wan would wake and know that Anakin had ruined everything, but then Obi-Wan’s lashes fluttered and his mouth parted with a sigh, unconsciously opening for Anakin, and the young Jedi was lost.

He leaned forward again, drawn to Obi-Wan like a magnet, and their lips met again, soft, open-mouthed kisses as light as air. Obi-Wan moaned quietly, a sound that went straight through Anakin and had him shuddering, pressing closer, seeking out more warmth and heat and Obi-Wan.

_Stars, he couldn't believe Obi-Wan was letting him do this._

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan mumbled between kisses, “not now.” His lips were heavy, and his eyes were still closed, though fighting to open. “Later. Too tired.”

Anakin kissed him again, once more, lingering as sweetly as he knew how, and then Obi-Wan sighed, head now pillowed on Anakin’s shoulder, and drifted back into peaceful slumber.

Anakin wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. His Master thought it was all a dream, and Anakin knew he wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.

 _But he kissed me back_ , his subconscious argued. _He knew it was me and he **kissed me back**._

 _Obi-Wan would never even consider…I’m his Padawan. He’s a Jedi!_ The more logical part of him reasoned.

_He would never…I couldn’t stand for him to distance himself from me. Which he would, if he knew how I felt. Duty comes first._

How many times had Obi-Wan said that to him?

Enough that Anakin knew what Obi-Wan’s response would be in the cold light of day. He gnawed his lip as he thought, as his heartrate slowly returned to normal, and as the sun moved inexorably across the bed and the day passed.

Obi-Wan slept on, safe in Anakin’s arms, and the soon-to-be Jedi Knight made a promise with himself. He wouldn’t make Obi-Wan betray his vows just because Anakin was selfish and needy. And he wouldn’t leave the Order while Obi-Wan still needed _him_. He would stay by his Master’s side until this war was over, because he couldn’t do anything else. And then he would leave the Order. He didn’t belong here, with Jedi who had never touched the darkness like he had.

He would find his own way then.

Once he knew Obi-Wan was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin’s a sneaky little thing, isn’t he? Stealing a kiss while Obi-Wan slept. I totally maintain that Obi-Wan’s subconscious would recognize Anakin though, and just be like, “Not now Anakin, I’m sleeping.” I'm sure George Lucas would agree, lol.
> 
> Next up, a bit of Vaderwan!


	24. Nach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader hated the memories associated with the former Jedi Temple. He hated that the Emperor made him come here, but most of all he hated how the Emperor seemed to know, and delight, in his pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaderwan. All of the new Darth Vader comics – which I’m finally getting around to reading – set just after Order 66 and during/after A New Hope, are giving me such inspiration for Vaderwan. The fact that he wishes – longs, craves, begs – for death and Obi-Wan more than anything, but can’t admit it to himself, packs a powerful emotional punch. It also adds so many parallels with his grandson, Ben: putting on the mask to create a monster; trying to convince everyone, especially himself, that the Dark Side was worth it; failing to turn back time and time again despite so many people reaching out to him; and trying to kill his past because he believes there is no hope for a future except in the Dark. Like Luke was the only one able to reach Anakin, due to the blank slate of their relationship, so Rey is the only one able to reach Ben. 
> 
> Anyway, enough waffling. Here you go! The second to last chapter.

nach

(after)

 

Darth Vader stalked through the halls of the Jedi Temple and tried to contain his rage. Commander Cody, who was recently promoted to head of the 501st– which had been re-named Vader’s Fist in the aftermath of the Clone Wars – kept a respectful half-step behind his superior officer. His footsteps marched in echo to the Sith Lord’s own. The commander didn’t look around him at the Jedi Temple, although this would be the first time he set foot within its walls since Order 66 was given. Since he had shipped out to Utapau under the command of Kenobi.

Vader pushed aside the resultant flash of anger and despair thoughts of his former Master always caused and glanced around himself reluctantly.

Already the Emperor had stripped the Temple of the statues, plants and artwork which had added life and elegance to it. Many of the windows were being taken out. The flowing lines of its architecture, meant to mimic wind and air, the waves and flow of the sea, were being transformed into hard corners and angles, painted dark colors of obsidian and slate grey. The blaster marks from the 501stattack had been removed…as had the blood-stained carpet.

There were screams in this place, echoes of pain and grief and horror. The murder of…younglings. Vader pulled them into himself, felt the agony of all those deaths – the annihilation of all those sparks of light – into the very marrow of his bones. The pain, the loss, it fed his rage and made him strong.

Failure, that’s what he saw around him. The Jedi, in their hubris and blindness, deserved nothing less than complete and utter eradication from the galaxy. Their lies, the lie of _peace_ , deserved no place in the order and structure the Emperor was building here.

Vader would hunt them all down until nothing, _nothing at all_ , remained.

“Commander,” Vader said, his voice deeper, more menacing than it had ever been while he was Anakin Skywalker – weak, pathetic fool.

“Yes, sir.” Cody stopped walking and stood at attention behind the Sith Lord.

“You will await me here,” Vader ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Cody agreed. There was a scar, barely visible through his dark hair, on his scalp. It hadn’t been there last time Vader had observed him without his helmet. He made a mental not to investigate who Cody had happened by such a small scare later. No doubt it was from a piece of shrapnel which had grazed too close for comfort.

Although why the clone commander hadn’t had his helmet on during a firefight, Vader couldn’t explain. Vader turned away.

“Sir?” Cody’s voice was quiet and vaguely uneasy behind him. There was…concern running through his familiar Force presence. Concern for Vader.

“Yes, Commander?” His voice held a hint of warning which this man, as expected, ignored.

“Will you be alright with the Emperor?”

Vader’s breathing was the only sound in the hallway, echoing over an emptiness which had once held warmth and light and love. Love was weakness, Vader reminded himself harshly. It was the most important lesson he had ever learned. And the costliest. “The Emperor is my Master,” he rumbled.

Cody’s silence spoke words. “Yes, I know sir.” There was a long pause and Vader morbidly wondered if the man was brave enough…foolish enough, to voice the thought on the tip of his tongue. “A bond between a Master and a Padawan is powerful. Which is why I asked if you would be alright?”

And Vader knew the man wasn’t speaking of Palpatine – Darth Sidious – but rather of…Kenobi.

The anger which rose in him then, almost unstoppable, had him reaching out a hand for the man’s throat. The clone commander’s chocking felt justified, made him feel…powerful. It was intoxicating and all it would require was a twitch of his fingers, a simple release over his control, and this pathetic clone, who had once known the weakling Anakin Skywalker, would be no more. “If you ever speak such treason again,” he warned, “it will mean your end.”

He turned and walked away, Cody’s gasps for air sounding loud, even muffled as they were by his helmet, as he crouched on the ground behind the Sith.

The farther Vader moved into the Jedi Temple, the more the old structure shown through the hastily erected scaffolding. The Emperor had great plans for the former Jedi Temple and would see it turned into a palace fit for the ruler of a galaxy-wide Empire, but the completed vision was still many years in the future.

Vader found his master in a wing of the Temple he remembered well.

“Ah, Lord Vader.” the wizened, disfigured features attempted a genial smile in his apprentice’s direction. Four masked and armored guards all in red stood equidistant from the Emperor, forming an impenetrable box around him.

Vader knelt. “What is thy bidding, my Master,” he intoned.

The mental probing came out of nowhere, just like it always did. One minute, the only sound was of Vader’s mechanical breaths and the next…burning, red-hot agony lancing into his brain as the Sidious plunged inside without a care, shifting through Vader’s thoughts and emotions – searching, uncovering old wounds, mocking weakness and delighting over any new bit of pain.

When at last he pulled out, after what could have been only seconds but felt like interminable minutes, he smiled without warmth at Vader again. He held out a wrinkled hand. “Rise, my friend.”

Pain screamed through Vader, but he stood up anyway trying to let it flow through him, wallowing in it, as his Master had instructed. Palpaine’s sickly yellow eyes watched him knowingly. “Very good, very good. Pain gives a Sith focus…focus on where to place his rage.”

They walked forward down the hallway, towards a set of rooms Vader had once know well and his feeling of foreboding grew. When they stopped outside the door of a room he still saw in his nightmares, Vader couldn’t hold back his anger any longer.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

The Emperor’s cruel smile, the delight Vader felt in his Force presence, was at odds with the congenial, sorrowful tone of his voice. “My dear boy, this is your punishment for failing to bring me Jocasta Nu alive. If we had the witch, you would not go through what I have in store for you.” His eyes were disturbingly knowing as the door released with a hiss. “Keep that in mind should you decided to fail me again.”

And then, with a powerful Force shove, Vader was propelled through the door, stumbling inside as the door hissed shut behind him…and was locked. Vader looked across the room –

– And gasped.

Obi-Wan stood there, auburn hair glinting in the light of a late afternoon sun. His back was to Vader, his arms clasped loosely behind him as he watched whatever had caught his interest through the window.

“Obi-Wan,” he breathed, his hand reaching out helplessly…

…his _flesh_ hand. And then Vader realized that the only sound had been his voice – younger, higher, huskier than the vocorecorder had ever sounded – and his breathing was erratic, which it never was anymore, and a lock of hair was falling into his eyes…which no longer saw the world in reds and greys but in shades of many hues.

Obi-Wan’s tan tunic, the gold in his hair, the paleness of his skin turning rosy in the light, the blue and orange of the sky, the green of the few plants which managed to survive on their windowsill.

He knew this wasn’t real, but Force it felt real.

“Obi-Wan!” and there was anger in his voice now. He felt the flare of shame and regret in his Master’s Force presence.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Anakin?” And the voice was exactly as he remembered it, lilting and refined and lingering over his name like it was something presence.

Lies! If Obi-Wan had cared for him at all, he would have finished what he started on the banks of that river of lava on Mustafar.

“How could you?” he demanded, accusingly, in that too-youthful voice, the anger growing until he could hear his pulse thundering in his ears. It would be so easy to crush this man, his sworn enemy, here and now.

And then Obi-Wan turned and Vader, in his surprise, forgot to be angry. He had expected the Jedi Master as he had last seen him, bearded, sorrowful and with a few grey hairs beginning to make their presence known in the glorious auburn of his hair.

The Obi-Wan before him looked impossibly young, beardless and with his hair shorter than Vader remembered it since Naboo and Qui-Gon’s death. “Master?”

Obi-Wan looked self-conscious. He stroked the fingers of his right hand over the smooth skin on his chin. “Yes,” he agreed, “I agree that it’s not my best look, but I’ve been assured my beard and hair will grow back in time.”

“You – you’re…” And Vader wasn’t quite sure what was happening anymore.  

“I am…sorry, Anakin,” his Master continued in a subdued voice. And now Vader actually gaped at him. His head felt like it was swimming and even though Obi-Wan never apologized – and Vader still had no idea what he was even apologizing _for_ – all he could concentrate on was the sunlight on Obi-Wan’s hair, the erratic pulse at his throat, the tips of his ears as they turned faintly pink from embarrassment.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to keep this from you,” Obi-Wan continued, those clear green eyes intent on Vader’s face, the full-force of his attention on Anakin, Anakin, _Anakin_ – “I just thought that if you knew it was to save the Chancellor’s life, you would have agreed, would have told me to do it. I know how close you are with him – ”

“But you don’t approve,” Vader said, numbly, stepping closer quite without realizing it. There were freckles across the bridge of Obi-Wan’s nose, and his chin had a cleft in it. How had he forgotten that?

“No, I don’t. But he’s _your_ friend, Anakin.” Obi-Wan let out a huff of air. “You never make anything easy for me, do you?” He rubbed his forefinger distractedly over that cleft and Vader watched him, spellbound. “I never meant to hurt you, I only meant…to save someone you cared for,” his Master finished.

 _Oh_ , Vader thought, realizing at last. _A Force memory associated with this room._ He remembered this moment, remembered walking back in here to confront Obi-Wan about faking his own death to become the criminal Rako Hardeen. He remembered yelling at Obi-Wan, not even letting him get a word in edgewise, and then storming away. He remembered how the sight of Obi-Wan’s face, so much younger without his beard, had made Anakin desperate to kiss him, to stroke fingers over his smooth skin, to touch him everywhere now that Obi-Wan was back, he was _alive_ , and he was here with Anakin again.

When Vader said nothing, Obi-Wan’s eyes darted away from his for the first time and towards his tiny kitchenette. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea?” He bit his lip before his eyes flickered back to Vader’s – _Anakin’s_ face.

And Vader was lost.

In two quick strides he had Obi-Wan in his arms, those changeable eyes wide as they stared at him from just inches away. “Anakin – ” Obi-Wan said, breaking off into a quiet gasp as Anakin buried his flesh hand into thick, auburn hair and attached his lips to the juncture between Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder.

And then there were calloused hands running over his skin, darting under his tunic to stroke stomach muscles strong and whole and unmarred by fire. He moaned against Obi-Wan’s throat, breath hitching at the little laugh his Master gave in response.

Obi-Wan’s hands were travelling downwards, skating around the waistband of his trousers before encircling his back and pulling the younger Jedi Knight flush against his body.

“Force,” he breathed, his thoughts scattering as Obi-Wan’s cheek brushed his own, and then his Master’s lips were skating over still-unmarred skin, breathing gentle kisses over his nose, his eyelids, the tips of his ears.

One of Obi-Wan’s hands was on his hip, gently pushing him backwards as he distractedly ran gentle fingers over that tantalizing cleft in his Master’s chin, until they both tumbled onto the couch in the living area. Obi-Wan was cradled between his legs, body firm and hard against him, and those brilliant eyes were staring down at him, filled with love and adoration.

_Love._

_I hate you_ , Vader wanted to say and wished he had the strength to push the other man away, even as his hands tangled in those red-gold strands and tugged Obi-Wan down towards him.

Obi-Wan’s familiar quirk of the lips, the flash of amusement and exasperation and fondness in his eyes, hit him hard in the gut, desire uncurling in fierce tendrils so quickly that he gasped with the feeling of it. And then Obi-Wan fulfilled his unspoken desire, running careful lips over his, softly, so softly that he ached with the gentleness of it, before he kissed him again, tongue dipping teasingly into his mouth until he was moaning from the taste, feel, touch of Obi-Wan.

“Don’t leave me,” he gasped, and found himself grasping his Master hard around the upper arms. “Obi-Wan,” he moaned between kisses, “please don’t leave me,” he whispered, and he was warm, he could  _feel_ again –

“I’m right here,” his Master said, and then Obi-Wan finally kissed him as deeply as possible, their bodies molding together as their Force bond burst wide open flooding him with Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, _Obi-Wan_ , on every possible level…

…And then he is back, cybernetic knees crashing hard onto the carpet. Obi-Wan was gone and his former room was empty, lifeless and airless without him. His breathing apparatus was struggling to catch up with his erratic heartbeat, his vision was red again, and around him the Force mocked him, mocked his pain. Taunted him with what could have been.

And there was so much pain.

“This is all there is,” he growled, fists clenched around the scorched carpeting. Someone had clearly been in a hurry when they’d last entered these rooms, given the mess. The plants on the windowsill were long dead – tiny, brown skeletons casting dark shadows in the moonlight. Dust coated all the furniture and drawers were thrown open haphazardly, with clothing hanging over the edge of them.

 _What were you searching for, Obi-Wan_ , he thought through the rage. _Not me_.

And then he screamed his fury into the Force and the room shook and cracked and broke around him.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter how many chances the Force gives him, Anakin can’t ever admit he made a mistake in choosing the Dark Side. It would mean he would have to face what he’d done. I always feel that Obi-Wan gets the closest to breaking him out of it – just the memory of him – due to how obsessed he is over everything regarding him. Until Luke gives Anakin hope for the future of course, and not just regret for the past.


	25. Endlich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Force rewards her favorite children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re finally at the end.

endlich

(finally)

 

Obi-Wan knew as soon as Palpatine was dead, that Anakin could see him again. Could  _feel_ him again in the Force. That armored black head swiveled past Luke to stare at a ghost.

Luke turned to look as well and saw Obi-Wan behind him. The boy smiled, tired and relieved and stunned all at once.

“Yeah, Ben’s here,” he confirmed for his father.

Anakin’s respirator, damaged and straining, was loud in the silence of the Emperor’s throne room. The man who had once been Darth Vader said nothing, but he didn’t look away from Obi-Wan either.

Obi-Wan stared back, seeing only the mask, and wondered despite himself how Anakin saw him now, with the veil of the Dark Side lifted. Was he only an old man outlined in a flickering blue light? A dead spirit of the one enemy Vader had chased across the galaxy for twenty years? A pale reflection of the person Anakin had often declared, ‘That’s my Master, there’s no one better’? or was he nothing more than a fleeting memory of the person his Padawan had once sworn to never leave behind?

He supposed that what happened next, like what had driven the course of so much of his life, was up to Anakin.

Obi-Wan moved silently beside them both as Luke half-supported, half-carried his father down towards the hangar bays. The Death Star was under attack by Rebel forces and the abrupt loss of the Emperor’s Battle Meditation had thrown them into disarray. No one seemed to notice or care when Luke and a clearly-injured Vader stumbled past them.

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s presence curling around him again, thin, wispy tendrils which broke off and dissipated into nothingness more often than not. Where before he had been brilliant and fiery in the Force, his presence was now a sickly yellow color, lukewarm and wavering.

Obi-Wan could feel Luke’s own brilliant presence, white and flaring like a supernova, wrap securely around his father’s, but Anakin seemed to flinch away from this, his presence flickering alarmingly for a moment.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help himself. It was entirely instinct that he reached out, his own Force presence – so different from when he was younger but still somehow the same – gently hovering at the periphery of Anakin’s own.

The Jedi Master gasped when his former Padawan all-but leapt on him in the Force, the faded remnants of his familiar presence grasping and twisting around Obi-Wan’s own until they were hopelessly intertwined, the embers masking Obi-Wan’s full strength bursting into flame at Anakin’s touch.

A single thought passed between them.

_Warmth._

“Are you alright, Ben?” Luke asked worriedly, eyes darting between his father and Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, moving around to Anakin’s other side now that the hallway was clear of anyone else except him, and Luke and a former Sith Lord. He reached out and hauled Anakin’s metal arm, the one Luke wasn’t holding onto, over his own shoulder, helping the boy support his father’s weight.

Anakin’s breath rasped and stuttered for a moment, those metal fingers curling around Obi-Wan’s shoulder, as though he was substantial and not a long-dead spirit.

The Jedi Master could feel the shock pouring from both Skywalkers. He smiled his most enigmatic smile, he just couldn’t help it. “You don’t know everything about the Force, my young Padawans,” he told him. “Neither of you.”

And all three of them could hear Master Yoda’s merry laughter echoing from the netherworld of the afterlife.

The moments that came after were hard for Luke, as Obi-Wan knew they would be.

_Leia?_ Anakin said silently, asking him for the name of his daughter, but it was a question to which he already knew the answer. Obi-Wan’s silent nod seemed to confirm his worst fears, for he did not look over at the Jedi Master again as he tried to comfort his son in his last moments, before fading away in the boy’s arms.

Obi-Wan faded away as well, leaving Luke alone. He did not want to, but Anakin needed him and as always, it was really a choice.

 

***

 

_Anakin_ , Obi-Wan called into the netherworld of the Force. Nothingness answered him.

_Anakin!_

For a moment his heart stopped – he shouldn’t need it as a ghost, but some habits were hard to break – and the icy breath of nothingness threatened to swallow him whole.

_ANAKIN!_

_Master?_ A small voice; scared and alone.

Anakin’s Force signature was still so unfamiliar, so faint and clouded by darkness, that Obi-Wan would never have found him, would have lost him forever…but Anakin reached out to him, held on and didn’t let go.

That had to mean something. Didn’t it?

 

***

 

“Where are we?”

Anakin’s voice was as it had been the last time Obi-Wan remembered him as Anakin Skywalker. His face and form were the same too, blue eyes unclouded by the Sith, soft curls framing strong, handsome features and a tall, powerful body that looked coiled for a fight. The only thing that was different was that he had two whole hands instead of just one.

Obi-Wan’s smile came without his permission and he wondered whether it was as blinding as it felt. He felt the years drop from him quite without conscious thought, so that he looked like the Obi-Wan Kenobi a young Anakin Skywalker had known.

Anakin’s hands curled into fists and his eyes – his blue, _blue_ eyes, thank the light – were wide and caught somewhere between fear and anger. His Force presence whipped around him like a storm, murky-grey and filled with small, coarse particles that – if Obi-Wan didn’t know better – he would have sworn was sand.

“Where are we?” Anakin demanded, the menace of Vader held back in his voice.

Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed. “We are…in-between,” he said, at his most enigmatic.

And Anakin…Anakin _rolled_ his eyes.

And it was glorious.

“Very funny, Master,” he said, and then seemed to realize what he had done. “Um,” he began, looking so much like a young Anakin who had accidentally revealed more than he wanted to that Obi-Wan’s traitorous heart did a little leap for joy. _Oh Force, don’t make me lose him again._

Obi-Wan tore his eyes away from Anakin’s slightly sheepish, beloved face, and out towards the landscape around them. They stood under a blue sky, small, fluffy clouds darting high above them in a strong breeze. That same breeze ruffled through their hair and simple, Jedi robes, and whipped through the tall greenish-brown grasses which covered the ground before them all the way to the horizon.

The only thing that marred this uniform scene was a small, dark-green blob far to their right. Even as they watched, the ground seemed to rush before them and the dark-green blob grew in size and nearness until they stood beneath a towering row of hedges, a tall, forty-foot wooden door reaching for the clouds above them.

Anakin glared at it suspiciously and jumped when those great doors swung outwards.

Inside was a dark tunnel, all of hedge-row, which twisted out of sight. “A maze,” he said, flatly. He swung around to face Obi-Wan, his arms crossed before his chest. As usual, he tried to hide his fear beneath anger. “Is this a test?” he demanded.

Obi-Wan felt his own fear – fear that Anakin wouldn’t see, wouldn’t find some self-awareness, even here at the very end – and ignored it. This wasn’t about him. “A test for what?” he asked calmly.

Anakin glared at him in silence, before turning to walk through the doorway. His back was stiff, and he looked like he was expecting an attack from every quarter. Obi-Wan watched him go and wanted to say so many things to him: ‘Be calm, Anakin, and you will find a way’; ‘Listen to what the Force is telling you’; ‘I know you haven’t forgotten everything I ever taught you’; and worst of all, ‘Please don’t leave me.’

The Force whispered from the past: _He won’t let me down. He never has._ Obi-Wan’s voice, as he defended Anakin to Yoda and Mace Windu before everything had gone so horribly wrong.

“Anakin!” Just that. His name.

Anakin swung around then, his eyes wide and his fear bleeding into the Force. “Master! You’ll still be here, won’t you?”

But the doors closed before Obi-Wan could respond.

The Jedi Master sighed and tried to control his own fear, stepping back several feet before kneeling down upon the grass, facing those wooden doors, and vainly attempting to meditate.

 

***

 

It might have been twenty minutes or twenty years, but when Anakin came through those doors again, he went straight to Obi-Wan. The Jedi Master stood up to meet him, noting his drained face and weary posture, but noting also the way his Force presence was brighter, clearer, _cleaner_ , then when he had gone in. Whatever the Force had shown him, whatever trials he had had to pass through, Obi-Wan only knew that they had helped him, made him stronger.

Obi-Wan reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, watching Anakin’s eyes close in wordless relief, his entire body releasing his tension at the Jedi Master’s touch. “I’m proud of you, Anakin,” he said quietly.

Anakin flinched even as he tried to lean into Obi-Wan’s touch, desperately craving more from his Master. Obi-Wan wondered if Palpatine had ever had a kind word for his apprentice, for all those years of loyalty and obedience. The Dark Side took, he knew, it did not give.

Anakin’s eyes opened then, their blue depths determined and hot on Obi-Wan’s own. “I’m sorry, Master,” he said, the words wrenched out of him, clearly not strong enough for what he wanted to convey. “I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

Obi-Wan dropped his hand, had to look away from Anakin’s bleak expression for a minute.

“Love never blinded Qui-Gon, or Yoda or Mace or even Luminara, no matter how much she loved Barriss. But it blinded me,” he admitted, feeling an old shame flood him again. “I never thought…” he trailed off. He didn’t have the strength, even now, to associate the beloved, familiar being before him with that of the monster he had become and stayed for decades.

“That I could kriff things up so badly?” That voice, Anakin’s voice, wavered and a bottomless pit of despair and self-loathing lay just beneath the pitiful attempt at humor.

Obi-Wan felt a brief, unwilling swell of amusement even as he reached out and placed his palm against Anakin’s cheek. His Padawan’s attempt to stave off the darkness he had been lost in for so long – now that Luke had reached him and maybe, just maybe, because Obi-Wan was with him for at least a little longer – was as painful as it was laudable. _Stay with me,_ he begged silently.

“No,” he admitted, making his voice as light as he could, wry acceptance threading through the words. “I always knew you would kriff something up someday that even I couldn’t fix for you.”

Anakin, his blue eyes as fierce and desperate as his Force presence, tears standing in their clear depths, gave a half-sob, half-laugh and then he was in Obi-Wan’s arms, throwing himself into the Jedi Master’s embrace with such strength that Obi-Wan stumbled back a bit, even as his own arms grabbed Anakin to him painfully hard.

They clutched at each other, finding more shared grief than pleasure in each other’s presence at first, and Anakin buried his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder even as sobs wracked him and the Jedi Master held him through it all.

Anakin’s voice was a hoarse, barely-there croak when he spoke at last. “But you did fix it.” His sudden bark of laughter startled Obi-Wan. “Stars you even fixed that.” There was wonder in his voice as he pulled back a bit from Obi-Wan, his bright sky-blue eyes roaming the Jedi Master’s face with the same wonder which filled his voice. Tears still streaked his cheeks, but his fingers came up to stroke Obi-Wan’s cheeks, to tangle in his hair, as though Anakin couldn’t really believe he was here. “You saved me.”

“Luke saved you.”

Anakin shook his head. “All those years I held on for one reason.”

“Revenge,” Obi-Wan said softly, feeling the pain he’d felt on that riverbank of lava on Mustafar fill him all over again. _I hate you_ , Anakin had shouted and Obi-Wan heard those words every night in his dreams.

“Yes,” Anakin agreed sorrowfully, “but it was simpler than that.” His eyes burned into Obi-Wan’s, two blue shards of kyber. “I knew that someday, _somewhere_ , I would find you again.” Those fingers stroked against Obi-Wan’s skin again, distractingly. Anakin’s voice was desperate with the need to make Obi-Wan understand, but the Jedi Master thought he was beginning to. “I was lost,” Anakin admitted, “and I couldn’t find you. I wouldn’t find you,” he admitted, “because I couldn’t admit what it would take to truly find you. And it got all tangled up with hatred and…and despair and _revenge_ …but I knew that one day you would find me.”

He laughed again, half in wonder at this revelation and half in disbelief. “It wasn’t even a hope. I just…knew.” He stared off into nothing, perhaps going over all those dark years once more in his mind. “I was always waiting for you,” he whispered.

His eyes met Obi-Wan’s again, and the depth of feeling in that clear gaze made Obi-Wan’s heart beat fast and his breath catch with a feeling he had not felt since…

“Luke and…and Leia,” Anakin’s voice choked up and he looked overwhelmed for a moment. “Thrawn and Ahsoka and Cody…and the Jedi. So many Jedi…they all tried to reach me. Like water wearing away rock. And I guess it worked. Not even I could stand against all of them,” he admitted, still so unconsciously arrogant.

Obi-Wan snorted.

Anakin’s wry smile acknowledged Obi-Wan’s unspoken thought, but he didn’t let it deter him.

“But you,” he said, that wonder back in his voice, his fingers skating over Obi-Wan’s auburn beard, his slightly-parted lips, “you loved me,” he said, as if even now he couldn’t believe it. “And in my darkest moments, you gave me hope. You gave me my son.” His eyes were fixed on Obi-Wan’s own, as though trying to peer into his soul. “You love me. And you loved my children.”

“They were yours,” Obi-Wan said simply. “In my darkest moments I wondered if there was something wrong with me, that I could never let you go.” And then, self-deprecatingly, “Who’s the more fool, the one who commits evil or the one who loves him despite it all.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and tried to organize his thoughts under the intensity of Anakin’s gaze, his Force presence which grew brighter and more powerful the longer they stood together, Obi-Wan’s hands anchoring Anakin to him as the younger man continued to touch and caress.

“But I couldn’t save you Anakin,” he admitted, his greatest failure, his deepest regret. “I tried, and I failed.”

Anakin was quiet, letting Obi-Wan get the words out, but the Jedi Master could feel his denial across their bond – their _bond_ , when had that happened? – as loudly as if Anakin shouted it. “It’s true,” he insisted. “The only thing I could ever do was love you.”

_Always._ But he couldn’t say that part out loud.

There was so much fear in Anakin’s eyes now, mingled with desperate hope and that ever-present awe which widened his eyes and made their bond spark with flickers of light.

And maybe it was Anakin’s awe at Obi-Wan’s love, and maybe it was that Obi-Wan had thought about what he would do if he ever had Anakin – _his_ Anakin – before him again, every single moment since he’d seen him kneel before Palpatine and it had shattered Obi-Wan’s heart, but the Jedi Master tugged Anakin down towards him by those unruly curls and kissed him.

It was a terrible kiss, Obi-Wan had to admit. Then again, the Jedi Master had never actually kissed anyone before, not even Satine, so he thought he should be allowed some slack. He kissed the side of Anakin’s mouth, his nose bumping awkwardly against Anakin’s own while his hands got tangled in his hair.

He didn’t let that deter him though, not when he heard Anakin’s gasp, felt the desperate pounding of his heart, and then felt the small, curving smile of those generous lips pressed against his own. He changed the angle and simply brushed his lips against Anakin’s again, feeling those lips part under his own, the sigh that seemed to come from Anakin’s entire body, the quick breaths he took as though he might pass out at any moment.

And then Obi-Wan kissed him deeply, fiercely. _Mine,_ he said silently, hoping he hadn’t projected that thought across their bond even as he kissed Anakin the way he’d seen people kiss in those terrible holodramas his Padawan swore he never watched.

Anakin moaned, quiet and breathy. “Yes,” he panted against Obi-Wan’s lips. “ _Yours_.” Then he was pushing Obi-Wan back, down into those long, soft grasses, covering his body with his own, long, lean one and kissing Obi-Wan until his vision began to grow black from lack of oxygen.

Obi-Wan pushed him back for a second, to catch his breath but mostly so he could see Anakin’s face; flushed cheeks and bright eyes, the way he bit his lip as he stared down at Obi-Wan and his gaze filled with lust. “Obi-Wan?” The uncertainty in that voice tore at Obi-Wan’s heart, but there would be time to mend that. They had all the time they needed now.

He hooked a leg around Anakin’s hip and drew him close again. “Mine,” he whispered happily against those lips, a promise and a prayer of thanks all in one. “Mine at last.”

And Anakin sighed in relief before bending to kiss him once more.

There wasn’t a lot of talking after that, unless you count whispered pleas and endearments, breathy moans, and Anakin’s blissful cry of ecstasy – he was noisy in everything he did – and the only sound was the wind until – for a brief moment – the Force turned supernova, light bursting out in all directions in joyful celebration, as her two favored children found each other at last.

 

The Beginning

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, it was harder than I thought, trying to merge Vader back into Anakin so quickly. I added as much fluff as I could, but redemption is a serious matter! Lol. Hope you all enjoyed it anyway, and hopefully there’s a feeling of catharsis, if not fluff. Let me know if Anakin’s revelations at the end are unclear. I tried to organize them enough that Anakin’s disjointed rationalizations still make sense, but I’ve stared at it so long it all looks like Greek to me. Be gentle with me, kind readers.
> 
> Oh yes, and Obi-Wan’s ghost is corporeal, kind of, because Yoda in ‘The Last Jedi’ smacked Luke on the nose with his cane. Which I thought was hilarious and so I figured Force ghosts are slightly corporeal. 
> 
> I can’t believe I’ve finally finished this story. It has been so wonderful figuring out all these moments Obi-Wan and Anakin almost kiss, even though I’m sure it drove many of you mad, lol. Thank you so much to everyone who read all the way through, and especially to those who commented and let me know their reactions. I appreciate every single one of you and loved that this story had an impact on so many of you.
> 
> And to those of you who commented on every single chapter, you are the reason I added 4 more chapters onto the end of my original 21. The AU and canon compliant happy endings are all for you.
> 
> Stay tuned for my next Obi-Wan and Anakin story, tentatively titled “The Far Dark Shore.” Coming to a fanfiction site near you in November 2018. My NaNoWriMo project for this year. 
> 
> Summary: It’s been seven years since Vader last encountered the scent of Obi-Wan’s infernal spiced tea, yet he would know it anywhere. But what was his old Master’s favorite brand of tea doing on a ship that belonged to Bail Organa? Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith and private investigator, intends to find out. Features Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader, R2-D2, Bail Organa, Leia Organa, Cad Bane, Aurra Sing, Hera Syndulla and Ahsoka Tano. Eventual Suitless Vader; AU; tiny princess Leia being a badass; some humor; mostly drama and everyone being a badass; Vader’s obsessive tendencies with regards to Obi-Wan; and Vader and Obi-Wan working together.


End file.
